


Baggins of The Shire

by Fangirlyra



Series: King!Bilbo AU [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Royalty, BAMF!Bilbo, Balin Ships It, Bilbo gets shit done, BoTFA angst, Canon - Book, Everybody Lives, King!Bilbo, M/M, Nobody is Dead, The dwarves didn't know, Thorin Broods, with some movie elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 60,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24132475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlyra/pseuds/Fangirlyra
Summary: The Shire - unlike any kingdom in Middle earth - didn’t have a King, instead they have a Baggins.This is a story of Bilbo Baggins, the 31st Baggins of the Shire who got swept away into an adventure with a company of dwarves because of the meddling of a wizard. Unfotunately said wizard didn't see it fit to inform the company that Bilbo was basically the king of the Shire. They didn't even know that the Shire had a leader!
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Series: King!Bilbo AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/62471
Comments: 85
Kudos: 871





	1. Prologue - On the Ordering of The Shire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyRedFeather](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRedFeather/gifts).



> Written as a fill to LadyRedFeather's [prompt](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/3138.html?thread=4048706#t4048706) on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/)
> 
> Well I've been rereading LoTR because of the quarantine and it urged me to finish this story (after 6 long years sorry!) but when went to do so I find that I am a different writer than I was back then and there are more that I want to tell in this story. So a rewrite it is!
> 
> This fic follow mostly the book plot but with some movie elements.
> 
> Disclaimer: If you recognize it from the book, it is probably from the book. If you recognize it from the movie, it is probably from the movie. If you recognize some spelling/grammar mistakes, that's definitely me and please let me know so I can fix it :D
> 
> Enjoy!

In the year of one thousand six hundred and first of the Third Age, a pair of hobbits brothers led many hobbits across the river Brandywine. They fell in love with the new land and remained there. Forty leagues it stretched from the Far Downs to the Brandywine Bridge, and fifty from the northern moors to the marshes in the south. The Hobbits named it the Shire.

While there was still King they were in name his subjects, but they were in fact, ruled by their own chieftains and meddled very rarely with events of the world outside. The hobbits keeps the Great Bridge in repair, and all other bridges and roads. It is said that some became the King’s messenger for they are nimble and deft in their movements and possessed the art of swiftly and silently disappearing when they do not wish to be found.

But alas! The North Kingdom ended in the war and the hobbits took the land for their own. They choose a family whom to them is the epitome of hobbitness and took their family name as their title. Thus in the year of 1979 (or the year 379 by Shire Reckoning) rule the first Baggins of the Shire. In those days, they had often obliged to fight to maintain themselves from the Big Folk. Those are the days where the Took family came to infamy for their prowess in battle. Still they are beholden to the Baggins, and it was as they liked it for the Tooks care little for the day to day bothers of ruling (such as holding of the Shire-moot and captaining of the Shire-muster).

However, the days of fighting had long past, the Shire had lived in peace for centuries and plenty for decades. The Baggins of the Shire - while still in charge of the Thains, Shirrifs, and the Post office - mostly dealt with the Big Folks (such as the Dunedain rangers) to preserve the sheltered life of Shire-folk. Thus in this time of peace our tale began…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly adapted from the LoTR prologue - concerning hobbits. The information about the founding of the Shire and its measurements are straight from the book.


	2. Chapter 1 - A Wizard Come Calling

It was a fine morning of April in the year of 1341 Shire-reckoning, Bilbo Baggins was sitting in his garden after breakfast, smoking from a beautifully carved wooden pipe. As he smoked, Bilbo hummed a merry tune of a job well done for this year’s Shire-moot had ended pleasantly yesterday. Nothing unexpected had come up and the Spring-fest - that was held in remembrance of the Fell Winter every year since - was full of food, ale, and merriment. Bilbo was very pleased with himself and took a deep inhale from his pipe when he spied a hobbit with a feather on his cap dashing towards Bag-End.

Now this is definitely a queer occurence, for hobbits do not hurry unnecessarily. Moreso that it was one of the Shirrifs that did so!

“Mister Baggins sir! Good morning!” cried the Shirrif.

“Good morning my dear Tom! What hurry you so?” asked Bilbo.

Tom took a few breaths to stop his huffing and puffing. For he came with a great hurry to deliver the news to the Baggins.

“There is a Big Folk in the Shire! Dudo spied him from his post sir!” said Tom.

Bilbo was very surprised at this news. For he had not heard nor received any letters that might forewarn him of this occurrence. Halalad, the chief of the Dunedain, had come by before the Shire-moot and said nothing of it.

“Was it one of the Rangers?” asked Bilbo, fearing that some ill news had befallen his dear friends.

“No sire! It was an old man with a staff. He had a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, a silver scarf over which his long white beard hung down below his waist, and immense black boots.”

At that Bilbo became even more perplexed. For even though he had never met this man in person, every Baggins had been shown a picture of the wizard who was responsible for so many quiet lads and lasses going off into the blue for mad adventures. For it could not be any other than Gandalf the Grey that has entered the Shire.

“Well it is queer news indeed! I suppose I should prepare tea and see what tidings he brings!”

At that Bilbo sent young Tom away to resume his duties and set about preparing tea for the wizard. As he went about doing so he became very concerned, for another thing he was taught about the wizard was that _Gandalf meant trouble_.

It might be some measure of Gandalf’s wizardry that Bilbo heard a knock on his door just as he finished setting up the table for tea. Bilbo hurriedly popped on his wooden crown and came to the door.

“Good morning!” said Bilbo and he meant it. It was a rather fine morning and trouble or not one should be polite to a wizard.

"What do you mean?" Gandalf replied. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is morning to be good on?"

Well one _should_ be polite to a wizard but that didn’t mean the _wizard_ would be polite.

"All of them at once," answered Bilbo, "and a very fine morning for a pipe of tobacco out of doors or tea indoors! As a matter of fact I just finished preparing some! Would you come in?”

“Very well Mister Baggins,” Gandalf inclined his head, “I shall join you for tea and mayhaps you can be of service to me.”

Bilbo had to hold his tongue on the _sheer audacity_ of wizards, it is well known that they are subtle and quick to anger. So he ushered Gandalf in, showed him where he can hang his great hat and led him to the table. At the table Bilbo inquired Gandalf’s liking for tea before quickly serving it to him and then fixing his own cup.

Bilbo took a gentle sip of his tea and asked,

“So Master Wizard, can I help you?”

“That remains to be seen,” said Gandalf, “I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

Bilbo knew it, _trouble._

“An adventure huh? It’s difficult to find anyone that is willing in these parts, with Sigismond Took finally settled down and married that sweet Brownlock lad. You might try looking at The Yale in Eastfarthing, maybe one of the many children of Isembold Took will be interested.” said Bilbo.

“I was hoping, Mister Baggins,” said Gandalf gravely, “That _you_ shall join me in this adventure!”

“Me!” Bilbo nearly squeaked, for great is his surprise, “I can’t leave the Shire for an _adventure_! As you very well know, Master Wizard, I am the Baggins of the Shire! I very well can’t leave the Shire on the whims of Big Folk, wizard or not! I shall send words to the Thains and see if there are any hobbits who would like to go though I doubt so!”

Bilbo looked at Gandalf after his outburst and quickly realized that he had offended the wizard.

“Whims of a Wizard you say!” said Gandalf, “Well, that's decided! I will send you on this adventure. Very amusing for me, very good for you and profitable too, very likely, if you ever get over it."

Bilbo cursed internally, he had to fix it, and he had to do it _now._

“I apologize Gandalf, for I can not go on any adventure. But I shall request a meeting with the Thains to discuss the issue tomorrow morning! If i send words swiftly it should reach them before they depart Hobbiton today!”

Gandalf’s anger looked slightly abated but he is not completely appeased

“Have you got anywhere to stay tonight?” asked Bilbo. Though he loathed to offer his home to the wizard, Bag End is meant to house Big Folks of import. Furthermore, it might appease the wizard.

“Hmm,” said Gandalf thoughtfully, “I have not made reservations but I meant to find a room in the Green Dragon inn after my errands today.

“Well that it’s settled! Come back for supper after your errands and in Bag End you shall stay. And I shall send words to the Thains immediately!”

Gandalf seems to be pleased with the outcome and Bilbo breathed in relief.

“Very well Mister Baggins,” Gandalf rose from his seat, “I shall depart for my errands and I shall be back for supper.”

“Call me Bilbo,” said Bilbo as he ushered the wizard out of his house, “and I shall see you tonight! Supper is at seven!”

“Fine, I shall tell the others,” said Gandalf.

“Inform the who? What?”

But Gandalf had already turned to go. Bilbo shook his head and cursed the wizard silently again. He hurried inside his round green door for he had words to send and supper to prepare!

He wondered what Gandalf meant by ‘the others’. Well, Bilbo thought, he just restocked his pantry so if Gandalf brought one or two company he would still be able to hold a decent supper. Wizards after all are wizards.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halalad here is an OC that I invented. He is the father of Halbarad (the only named Ranger that came to support Aragorn in RotK). His name roughly means "tall tree" in Sindarin. Since by now Arathorn had been dead for 8 years, I decided to make him the Chief.
> 
> According to the Tolkien Gateway, Gandalf and the Rangers of the North had to provide food for the hobbits to prevent them from dying of hunger during the Fell Winter (T.A. 2911-2912). Bilbo would be 21 years old then, and since he is the crown prince in this AU he would've met Gandalf. But I really like how the book and the movie portrayed this as Bilbo's first meeting with Gandalf so I decided to remove Gandalf from the Fell Winter rescue party and replaced him with... well you just have to keep reading to find out! :D


	3. Chapter 2 - Meet the Dwarves

Troubled mind or not, Bilbo Baggins is a sensible hobbit and he got to work. Words are indeed, quickly sent to the Thains for an urgent meeting at breakfast tomorrow and also to the Shirrifs that Bag End is expecting guests tonight. After that Bilbo got to prepare supper and airing out the rooms for his guest - or mayhaps  _ guests. _ Bilbo set out to prepare a grand meal, enough for four hobbits. Biblo thought it would be more than enough, the Big Folks rarely have as big appetites as hobbits.

As he put in another roast into the fire there came a tremendous ring on the front-door bell.

‘He is early!’ thought Bilbo. He quickly took off his apron, hung it up, and ran to the door.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting!” said Bilbo as he opened the door. 

However it was not Gandalf at his door, but a tall dwarf with broad shoulders. He had no hair on top of his head and curious markings on his hands.

“Dwalin at your service.” said the dwarf.

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours!” suprised or not, it always pays to be polite, “I expect you’re one of Gandalf’s companies. Please come in!”

Dwalin came inside and hung his cloak on the nearest peg.

“Supper is not yet ready. Please have a seat.” Bilbo led the dwarf to the table, “Would you like something to drink?”

“Aye Mister Baggins,” said Dwalin, “I would like some beer if you have them.”

“Right away!” Bilbo found himself scuttling off to the cellar to fill a pint beer-mug and then to the kitchen to check on his roast. As he set the pint down for Dwalin, came another ring at the bell.

‘It better be Gandalf!’ thought Bilbo.

But it was not Gandalf. Instead there was a stout dwarf on the step with white beard and hair.

“Balin at your service.” said the dwarf.

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours!” Bilbo gestured to Balin to come in. 

Balin hung his cloak next to Dwalin’s and said, “I see that my brother has arrived!”

“If you meant Master Dwalin, then he is in the dining room.” said Bilbo as he led Balin to his brother. He settled the stout dwarf down and went to fetch another pint of beer.

Bilbo went to check on supper and pleased to find that it was nearly ready. He was putting in some finishing touches (for all hobbits are very proud of their cooking) when out came a ring at the bell again, and then another ring.

Now Bilbo really hopes it was Gandalf this time, but he was getting suspicious that it might not. Turns out he was right to be suspicious, it was two more dwarves and Gandalf was nowhere to be seen. These dwarves looked young, barely past their tweens if they were hobbits.

“Fíli,” said the one with yellow hair, “Kíli” said the other one with dark hair, “At your service!” and they both swept off their hoods and bowed.

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours and your family!” replied Bilbo, “You are right on time my dwarves, supper is ready!”

This news indeed pleased the newcomers as they followed Bilbo to join their kin. Bilbo settled the young dwarves in and went to fetch more ales and supper. The dwarves were chatting merrily amongst each other as Bilbo set plates after plates on the table. Just as Bilbo set the last plate down, his bell rang again, as if some naughty little hobbit-lad was trying to pull the handle off. 

“That should be the sons of Lori,” said Fíli, “We saw the three of them coming along behind us in the distance.”

“ _ Three?” _ sighed Bilbo as he went to open the door again. However, when he opened it, it was not three, or four, but  _ five _ dwarves! They’re all saying “at your service” one after another, Dori, Nori, Ori, Óin, and Glóin are their names. Bilbo weakly gestured for them to come inside and soon their hoods joined the others on the pegs and the dwarves joined the others in the dining room. 

Bilbo started to become very anxious for he has not prepared  _ enough food _ for this...this  _ throng _ ! He fetched more beers and racked his head on how he was going to feed his guests extra supper when there came yet another ring on the bell!

Bilbo rushed along the passage, very bewildered and bewuthered - never before he was so ill prepared for guests! He pulled open the door with a jerk, and they all fell in, one on top of the other. More dwarves, three more! And  _ there _ was Gandalf behind, leaning on his staff and  _ laughing _ . At this Bilbo became very angry. So angry he was, he only acknowledged the dwarves “at your services” with a nod - Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur were their names - and gestured them to follow him.

When they arrived in the dining room, the dwarves nearly finished all of the food prepared, for as Bilbo feared, he had not made enough food for  _ twelve dwarves _ and a wizard! At that moment, the two young dwarves - Fíli and Kíli - came into the dining room carrying two big wheels of cheese and four loaves of bread, pillaged from Bilbo’s pantry.

“Come! There is more food in the pantry!” exclaimed Kíli.

“That is enough!” cried Bilbo, he was so angry he forgot his manners entirely, “I must say I wasn’t expecting all of you for supper tonight! After all, I only invited Gandalf and maybe two or three of his companions! If this is payback for offending you earlier today then I beg your pardon master wizard!” He exclaimed the last part to Gandalf.

“And you young dwarves!” Bilbo turned to Fíli and Kíli, “It is very impolite to pillage your host’s pantry without any by-your-leave!”

The room became quiet after Bilbo’s exclamations, Fíli and Kíli wilted from Bilbo’s scolding, and even Gandalf did not look so amused anymore.

“Ah...apologies Mister Baggins,” said Balin kindly, “It seems that we have been misled by Tharkûn here.” 

By Tharkûn Balin meant Gandalf, for the dwarves have their own name for the wizard. Gandalf at least had the decency to look slightly abashed.

“We are sorry to impose on your hospitality, we should take our leave.” continued Balin.

Bilbo’s anger seeped out at the kind apologies.

“No. No. Please stay and enjoy Bag End’s hospitality my dear dwarves. For as Kíli said, I do have enough food in the pantry for you all!” said Bilbo, “This is not usually done, but if some of you may lend a hand we shall have a grand supper! And not too late!”

The dwarves cheered up greatly at Bilbo’s word and were more than happy to help. In no time at all supper was once again served, with plenty of food, beer, wine, and cakes for everyone. They ate and they talked, and from their talks Bilbo gathered that the leader of the company has yet to arrive. Bilbo set a serving of everything aside, for he feared that the dwarves would forget themselves and left none for their leader. After they finished eating, Bilbo set to clear the plates but Balin stopped him.

“Let us clear up, Mister Baggins.” said he, “You have worked hard to feed us all!”

Before Bilbo could say anything, the dwarves jumped to their feet and started to throw the cutlery around.

“Please be careful!” squeaked Bilbo.

The finest dining ware in the Shire! Thrown around like a rubber ball! His father would roll in his respectable grave!

The dwarves just chuckled as they went along, balancing columns of plates, each with a bottle on the top, and they started to sing:

_ Chip the glasses and crack the plates!  _

_ Blunt the knives and bend the forks!  _

_ That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates! _

_ Smash the bottles and burn the corks!  _

_ Cut the cloth and tread on the fat!  _

_ Pour the milk on the pantry floor!  _

_ Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!  _

_ Splash the wine on every door!  _

_ Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl;  _

_ Pound them up with a thumping pole;  _

_ And when you’ve finished, if any are whole,  _

_ Send them down the hall to roll!  _

_ That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!  _

_ So, carefully! carefully with the plates! _

Thankfully the dwarves did not do any of those dreadful things. Bilbo sagged in relief when he saw everything was cleaned and put away safe as quick as lightning unharmed. As soon as the last plates were put away, came a ring on the bell.

“He’s here.” said Gandalf.

Gandalf followed Bilbo to the door and there stood a regal looking dwarf. Bilbo caught a breath for the dwarf had the air of a dwarf lord of old.

“Mister Baggins, may I introduce you to the leader of the company, Thorin Oakenshield.” said Gandalf.

Thorin inclined his head regally, “At your service, Mister Baggins.”

Bilbo put a palm on his chest and bowed slightly, “Bilbo Baggins at your service, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór.”

At this the dwarf was taken aback, however before he could inquire further Gandalf cut in,

“Mister Baggins here is a bit of a scholar, he must have recognized your names from stories.” 

Indeed Bilbo knew who Thorin was from his scrolls, as the Baggins of the Shire it was his business to know the going ons of the world outside and what he knew made him very wary of what this adventure was about.

“Tharkûn!” greets Thorin, “You said this place is easy to find.”

Gandalf smiled and led Thorin into the dining room, where at the head of the table the food that Bilbo had put aside and a pint of beer was set by one of the dwarves. Thorin sat down to eat and all twelve dwarves, one hobbit and a wizard gathered round the table. The dwarves spoke to each other about portents for their journey and Bilbo could not held his curiosity for any longer,

“Pardon me, if I may ask,” said Bilbo, “This journey of yours, are you intending on going to the Lonely Mountain?”

Thorin looked up from his meal and gave Bilbo a long hard look,

“Aye Mister Baggins. We are intending on reclaiming our home.”

“And what could a hobbit of the shire do in such a perilous endeavor?” asked Bilbo further.

“Well you see here lad,” said Glóin, “There are thirteen of us dwarves, and thirteen is an ill number for any journey! Tharkun here said that he shall find the fourteenth man for our expedition.”

“And I have found him! I am sure we can convince Mister Baggins to join in on your journey.” said Gandalf.

“As I said this morning,” Bilbo rubbed his temple, “I  _ can not _ leave the Shire. And I have also assured you that I will do my best to find a hobbit willing to do so! Now please for I would really like to know,  _ why must it be a hobbit? _ ”

At that Gandalf unfurled a map and set about explaining that there is a small hidden door to Lonely Mountain where a hobbit will be the perfect candidate to sneak in to check whether the dragon still resides within.

“A Dragon!” cried Bilbo, “Begging your pardon, I doubt that any sensible hobbit will be willing to go on this venture of yours!”

“Nevermind the Dragon, the journey itself is dangerous. Tell me Mister Baggins, have you got any fighting skills?” said Thorin.

“Well if you must know I’m very skilled with a sling!” said Bilbo, for hobbits have sharp eyes and keen aims, and Bilbo was better than most. As a young hobbit he blinded one of the wolves that came across the Brandywine river on the Fell Winter with his sling, saving the lives of his mother and three other hobbits.

Not knowing all this Thorin let out a snort of laughter,

“A sling!” he sneered, “As soon as I clapped eyes on the little fellow I had my doubts! Twice I went around looking for this place and not a single fighter I saw! Soft folks, these hobbits are. Well Mister Baggins here looks more like a grocer than a burglar!”

“A burglar! Never before a Baggins so insulted in his own smial!” exclaimed Bilbo. 

The first weapon that Bagginses learned to wield is their  _ words _ and Bilbo let the sharp side of his loose on Thorin in anger, 

“Are you in the habit of insulting your host Thorin, son of Thráin? Especially one that just fed your  _ entire company _ ?”

Once again the room became quiet, none of the dwarves spoke up against Bilbo for dressing down their leader, not even the leader himself. Bilbo narrowed his eyes, it seemed that no paologies would be forthcoming this time. Bilbo got up with a mighty huff,

“Finish your meal Thorin Oakenshield. I’m going out for a smoke.” he left them and went outside to do exactly as he said. 

It was rather discourteous of him as a host to do so, but it was better than throwing the lot out for the night as Bilbo was sorely tempted to. 

He sat down in his garden, on the very same bench he sat when he got news from Tom the Shirrif. He took out his pipe from his pockets and lit the bowl. He took a deep inhale and blew out a mighty smoke ring. Twice tonight he lost his temper, these dwarves really did get on his nerves! As the smoke dissipated to the night air he heard someone come out of the back door. 

Gandalf joined him on the bench and lit his own pipe,

“Peace Bilbo, they mean no harm.”

“I'll be alright, just let me sit quietly for a moment,” Bilbo blew out another smoke ring.

“They are keen to reclaim their home. Tell me Mister Baggins, will you not do the same if the hobbits are driven out of the Shire by great evils?”

Bilbo didn’t answer, Gandalf had used his title in his question reminding him of the responsibilities one should feel toward their folks. Gandalf took out a scroll and handed it to Bilbo.

“Here is the contract for the fourteenth member of the company, do reconsider. The world is not in your books and maps. It’s out there, Bilbo, don’t you want to see it?” He said not unkindly.

Bilbo took the contract from Gandalf and heaved a big sigh,

“I can’t leave the Shire Gandalf.” said Bilbo quietly.

“That’s the fifth time now you said that. Funny how you keep saying that you  _ can’t _ leave and not that  _ you did not want to _ .”

Bilbo fell quiet again, Gandalf had hit the mark. 

His mother was the famous Belladonna Took, one of the three remarkable daughters of the Old Took. It was often said - by other families - that long ago one of the Took ancestors must have taken a fairy wife. That was of course, rather absurd, but certainly there was still something not entirely hobbitlike about them, and once in a while members of the Took-clan would go and have adventures and he too yearns for them.

“Even if I would go, I need to make sure that the Thains are prepared for my absence.” Bilbo hedged.

“Then it is a good thing that you’ve asked them to gather before you tomorrow isn’t it?” said Gandalf.

“Right…” Bilbo can’t think of any other thing to say.

“Well it’s entirely your choice on what you are going to tell them. It is a peaceful time in the Shire and you have ruled so well in the past eighteen years that the Shire runs itself. It shall be here when you come back.”

“Can you promise that I will come back?”

“No. And if you do, you will not be the same.”

“That's what I thought. Sorry Gandalf, I shall do my best to find a hobbit to go on this journey.”

At that Bilbo took the contract and went inside. Thirteen pairs of eyes followed him but none of them came to speak to Bilbo about his earlier outburst, nor did they ask about the contract. Bilbo squared his shoulder and assigned rooms for them all; luckily Bag End was built to accommodate ‘foreign’ guests but thirteen was a stretch and most of the dwarves had to share a room with another. He showed Fíli and Kíli to the last room and was ready to go to his own.

“Mister Baggins,” said Fíli as Bilbo was about to leave them, “I’d like to apologize on behalf of our u- esteemed leader.”

“Aye Mister Baggins,” said Kíli in a smaller voice, “Thank you for dinner and for letting us stay in your home tonight.”

Whatever anger Bilbo had left did not stand a chance against the earnest apology and gratitude.

“Don’t you worry about it lads,” Bilbo told them with a small smile, “Better rest up tonight, you have a long journey ahead.”

Bilbo left them and went to his own little bed very tired and entirely off centered. As he lay in bed he could hear the dwarves gathered back in front of the fireplace and singing.

_ Far over the Misty Mountains cold. _

_ To dungeons deep and caverns old. _

_ We must away ere break of day. _

_ To find our long forgotten gold... _

As they sang, the Hobbit felt the love of beautiful things made by hands and by cunning and by magic moving through him, a fierce and jealous love, the desire of the hearts of dwarves. Then something Tookish woke up inside him, and he wished to go and see the great mountains, and hear the pine-trees and the waterfalls, and explore the caves, and hold a sword instead of a walking-stick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dwarfs enter stage!
> 
> What do you think of this chapter?
> 
> It always bothered me how the dwarves just run roughshod over Bilbo in his own house and how this scene basically Gandalf's giant prank (the part where Gandalf is laughing is straight from the book - ever wonder why he often got chilly reception from others? Shit like is probably WHY Gandalf!!). But Bilbo can't be a good king if he let people use him as a doormat so here we have Bilbo (after he got over his surprise and realized Gandalf is fucking with him), standing up for himself while (hopefully) remained hobbit-ish.


	4. Chapter 3 - The Four Thains of The Shire

The next morning Bilbo woke up as the sun hit his face. Up he jumped, because he remembered his guests. He quickly put on his dressing-gown and hurried into the dining room. There he saw no one, but a folded note rested on the table.

_ Bilbo, _

_ Thinking it unnecessary to disturb your morning meeting, I have taken the company away for breakfast and to make requisite preparations. We shall await you at the Green Dragon Inn, Bywater, at II a.m. sharp. Trusting that you will be punctual. _

_ Gandalf _

Bilbo sighed; he hadn’t quite made his mind and yet Gandalf seemed sure he would come. Anyway the Thains would be arriving soon. So he put on an apron, lit fires, boiled water, and washed up. Then he had a nice little breakfast in the kitchen before he went on to prepare second breakfast for five hobbits.

At 9.30 a.m. there were four rings on his doorbell. Bilbo looked at himself in the mirror checking out his outfit: silk shirt and trousers, embroidered waistcoat with brass buttons, and a long purple coat; proper enough for a Baggins. Ah! He almost forgot his crown! Bilbo took the small wooden crown down from his mantelpiece, put it on his curls, and hurried to open the door.

Last night he had completely forgotten his crown, with the company arriving early and the whole befuddled affair afterwards. Thinking back, it was probably for the best that he didn’t wear it. The point of wearing a crown after all, was to remind the other party that he is more important than them, and he really didn’t want to insinuate that he thought  _ he  _ was more important than a wizard.

When he opened the door, there stood four important-looking hobbits. Bilbo smiled and greeted them in hobbit’s custom, from the oldest to the youngest.

“Good day to you, Uncle Longo! How is your family?” greeted Bilbo to Longo Sackville-Baggins, Thain of Northfarthing.

Bilbo called him uncle because he  _ was _ his uncle, his grandfather’s second born son. After Bilbo was born and he was no longer in line for the throne, he went and married Camelia Sackville, the heiress of Sackville family who held the Thainship of Northfarthing, took their family name and became the Thain. The Sackvilles were more than happy for the chance to add a hyphenated ‘Baggins’ to their family name.

“Good day to you, Bilbo Baggins. My family is fine, Otho is busy courting Blanco Bracegirlde’s daughter so he won’t be joining me today, ” responded Longo.

Bilbo sighed internally in relief, firstly because he only prepared meals for five Hobbits but also because he didn’t quite like Otho Sackville-Baggins. Otho was very envious of Bilbo and he had expressed his preference to be the next Baggins rather than the Thain. Bilbo gestured to Longo to proceed to the dining room and turned to the next hobbit.

“Good day to you, Mister Marden! How are the Longbottom pastures?” greeted Bilbo to Marden Longbottom, Thain of Soutfarthing.

“Good day to you, Mister Bilbo! The pastures are as green as ever. Here I brought some fresh pipe-weed for you,” responded Marden.

Bilbo smiled as he took the small bag from Marden, he liked visitors from Northfarthing for they always brought at least one bag of fresh pipe-weed from their pastures. Bilbo gestured to Marden to also proceed to the dining room and turned to the tallest hobbit.

“Good day to you, Cousin Fortinbras! How is the chief town?” greeted Bilbo to Fortinbras II Took, Thain of Westfarthing.

“Good day to you, Cousin Bilbo! The chief town is busy as ever!” responded Fortinbras as he patted Bilbo’s shoulder heartily.

Bilbo gestured to his Took cousin to join the other two Thains and turned to the last and youngest hobbit.

“Good day to you, Mister Nyle! How are the farms?” greeted Bilbo to Nyle Boffins, Thain of Eastfarthing.

“Good day to you, Mister Baggins! The farms are as prosperous as ever!” Nyle squeakily responded.

After the Oldbuck family moved across the water and became Brandybuck the thainship of Eastfarthing was passed between the Boffins and Bolger family. How it passed to the young and meek Nyle Boffins, Bilbo didn’t know. He was also the only Thain that still called Bilbo with his title, well Longo never did and Fortinbras only did it in jest.

It is worth mentioning that ‘Mister Baggins’ is the title given to the Baggins of the Shire whether said Baggins is married or not. To avoid confusion, all other Bagginses are referred to as ‘Master Baggins’. Ponto Baggins, one of Bilbo’s great uncles, had found amusement at being called ‘Master Baggins’ at the ripe age of ninety five (before he passed away) and with many children and grandchildren of his own.

Bilbo ushered Nyle to the dining room, closing the door behind them. After all of them were seated they started eating and talking.

“So Bilbo, what did you request our audience for?” inquired Longo.

Bilbo explained to them about Gandalf, Dwarves, Dragons, and everything else. The Thains listened carefully while munching through their second breakfast.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you are saying that Gandalf wants  _ a hobbit  _ to do some adventuring with him?” asked Marden incredulously.

“Well, _ me _ to be precise,” Bilbo said.

“But that’s outrageous! You’re the Baggins for Kementári’s sake!” exclaimed Longo, “Don’t tell me you’re considering it!?”

“Well I...” Bilbo was not sure what to answer since he  _ was _ considering it.

“Don't be a fool, Bilbo Baggins! Thinking of dragons and all that outlandish nonsense at your age!" protested Longo, he was definitely so scandalized he forgot his manners and called the Baggins a fool.

“Well why not?” roared Fortinbras before Bilbo could answer, “He is a Took too! An adventure is good once in awhile!”

“Well actually… we can’t really risk a wizard’s wrath,” piped Marden, ”It’s bad for pipe-weed business you know!”

“Absolutely not! A Baggins going for an adventure? It is not respectable at all!!” Longo reiterated sharply.

“Well I said Bilbo should go! After all he hasn’t had his Wandering Year before he became the Baggins of the Shire!” replied Fortinbras even sharper.

Wandering Year is the name that the hobbit gave to the year where every Baggins of the Shire to be went off for a year and do other things beside learning to be a Baggins. Bilbo’s father, Bungo Baggins had used his Wandering Year to win the affection of the famous Belladonna Took and Bilbo’s grandfather Mungo Baggins went to Buckland to learn how to make beer.

“Bah!” exclaimed Longo, “This is what I was talking about when I said he wasn’t ready to be the Baggins!”

“You forgot yourself, uncle.” Bilbo cut in sharply, “Let us not speak of past arguments, for eighteen years had passed since my readiness was in question and eighteen years have I been the Baggins of the Shire!”

Longo Sackville-Baggins snapped his mouth shut at Bilbo’s rebuke for he had spoked truly.

“Well I think...” said Nyle uncertainly, breaking the silence. All eyes turned to the young hobbit.

Nyle swallowed a breath and continued, “I think...t-that Mister Baggins should do as he wishes?”

“Nonsense!!” yelled Longo

And the four Thains fell back into an argument. Well more accurately, three Thains fiercely argued while Nyle looked like he was willing for the chair to swallow him. Bilbo rubbed his forehead and glanced at the clock, it was almost 10.30 a.m. and all he could think was that  _ he’s going to be late _ . Right then, it looked like he had made up its mind before he even realized it.

“Ahem,” Bilbo cleared his throat and stood to his full height, “As Mister Marden said, it is not to our fortune to risk the wrath of a wizard. After all, isn't it the duty of the Baggins of the Shire to protect the Shire from outside?” 

The table went silent, Bilbo was the most important hobbit in The Shire and he could be dignified and commanding if he wanted to.

“Gentlehobbits, I have decided.” declared Bilbo, “I am going on an adventure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the Thainships:
> 
> Bilbo took over the position of the Thain in canon (albeit with more responsibilities) but I want the Tooks to still be an influential family so I decided to make each Farthings have a Thain (Mayor of Michel Delving is not a thing in this AU...sorry?). 
> 
> Southfarthing is an easy choice, It has to be the Longbottom family! They are probably the most successful farmers in The Shire: their pipe-weed get their own section in the LoTR prologue and Saruman himself hoarded it.
> 
> Now I really like the tension between Bilbo and the Sackville-Bagginses. But in the canon, Sackville is kinda in the back end of nowhere in Southfarthing. So to keep this tension, the SBs had to be put into position of power. SO I moved the SBs to Northfarthing (which is still the least prosperous Farthing in The Shire - low key explained their jealousy) and made their family hold the Thainship.
> 
> I played with Eastfarthing for a while... I was toying with the idea of folding Buckland back into The Shire but decided that it will be more interesting for them to remained a Commonwealth country to The Shire. So in come the Boffins and the Bolgers (which I choose purely because I like saying their names :p)
> 
> Now we have one Thain that is pro-Bilbo (Tooks), one that is againts-bilbo (SBs), and two that are somewhat neutral!
> 
> So, what do you think about the governmental/political structure of The Shire in this AU so far?


	5. Chapter 4 – How to Cook a Dwarf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a lot of the previous version and was originally beta-ed by [Livingmeatloaf](http://livingmeatloaf.tumblr.com/).

When Bilbo finally found himself outside with travelling clothes, a travelling pack, a walking stick, and other things that he usually took when he went out, it was almost eleven o’clock. He had left his keys in Fortinbras’ hands (much to Longo’s dismay) trusting his Took cousin not to declare him dead too early. He also left a stack of letters for the Shirrifs, Postmaster, and his Gardener explaining that he is going away to ‘prevent a wizard’s wrath on the Shire’ and to assure them that he will come back as soon as his business with the wizard is settled.

And off he went, running as fast as his furry feet could carry him down the lane, past the great Mill, and across The Water. Very puffed he was, when he got to Bywater just ten past eleven, and found the company had left without him! He went on for a mile or more before finally catching up with the company at the East Road.

“Wait! Wait!!” called Bilbo as soon as he spotted them.

The company stopped and Thorin shot him a haughty look. Bilbo noticed but chose to ignore him, for he was in a good mood and not in a hurry to ruin it.

“Here, I signed it,” Bilbo gave the signed contract to Balin.

Balin took out his looking glass and gave the contract a once-over.

“Everything appears to be in order. Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

“Thank you. It’s _Mister_ Baggins actually....”

Thorin cut him off with a snort and commanded, “Give him a pony.”

Before Bilbo could protest further he was hauled up onto one. Bilbo fumed silently on the pony’s back.

‘Must Thorin always be so _infuriating?’_ he thought.

But Bilbo had signed a contract that stated the Dwarf as the leader of the company and Bilbo had left his crown at his mantelpiece back at Bag End; right now he wasn’t the Baggins of the Shire as much as he was Bilbo Baggins, fourteenth member of the company. So Bilbo shut his mouth and rode along with the rest.

Life on the road was harder than Bilbo expected. He envied the dwarves’ uncanny ability to drop and sleep anywhere; meanwhile it seemed that everywhere he laid there was a knobby root or sharp rocks sticking into his back. However Bilbo was eager to join them on the nightly fire for the dwarves loved to tell stories around the fires. Dwarf stories are rare to come by in writings of men or elves so Bilbo listened to their stories with great interest. 

Gloin never missed a chance to boast about his family back in the Blue Mountains and Oin liked to share herb lore on the things they passed by during the day. However it was _Nori_ that had the most interesting tales. The dwarf was somewhat of a troublemaker and he was never short of hilarious successes and mishaps to share.

“That was very well done Master Nori!” Bilbo wiped away tears of mirth from his eyes after one particularly hilarious story.

“Aye it was!” said Bofur, “Though it made me wonder what are you doing here! This quest doesn’t seem your… style?”

“I let myself be caught by our honorable Mister Dwalin here after I heard that our little Ori signed up for the quest to earn his Mastery,” said Nori with a mischievous smile, “ and I will get a royal pardon for all of my past mischief on top of my share should we succeed.”

“Hah!” Dwalin snorted a laugh, “ _Let_ yourself be caught? Whatever makes you sleep at night thief.”

“Why Mister Dwalin,” Nori purred, “Did you let me go on purpose on the last _thirty seven_ times you failed to catch me?”

Dwalin went very red in the face and harrumphed while the company dissolved in a fresh peal of laughter.

“What about you?” Nori asked Bofur once the laughters had subsided, “Why did you sign up?”

“We owe Thorin,” said Bofur simply, “He saved Bifur’s life in Azanulbizar.”

“Azanulbizar?” Bilbo asked curiously as the rest of the company nodded solemnly as if Bofur’s word explained everything.

“Aye, it was the last battle in the War of the Dwarves and Orc.” said Balin, “You might have heard of it.”

Bilbo nodded, the dwarves had gone quiet waiting for Balin to continue. Balin hesitated for a while but he told the tale. It was a grim war that went on for six years and decimated half of the dwarven warriors, including Balin’s and Dwalin’s own father, Fundin. In the last battle Thorin was wounded when his shield broke and he had to use an oak branch to defend himself, but he managed to inflict a mortal wound towards Azog - the leader of the orcs - and pushed the dwarves towards victory.

“And I thought to myself then,” said Balin, finishing his tale, “There is one who I could follow, there is one I could call King.”

All eyes were upon Thorin as Balin told the tale, Bilbo himself felt a measure of respect for the dwarf-king. Bilbo didn’t know whether he could survive the hardships that Thorin had faced throughout his life.

“Enough tales for tonight,” said Thorin gruffly, “Rest up!”

So went the journey, day by day, night by night, and story by story, Bilbo found himself feeling closer to the dwarves - except for Thorin. Their leader remained cold and distant towards Bilbo. Bilbo quickly decided not to be bothered by it and be friendly to the others, offering stories from The Shire during story-time. Stories of great battles seemed to be well received by the dwarves, such as the story of the Old Took’s great-grand-uncle Bullroarer, who was so huge (for a hobbit) that he could ride a horse. He charged the ranks of the goblins of Mount Gram in the Battle of the Green Fields, and knocked their king Golfimbul’s head clean off with a wooden club. It sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit-hole, and in this way the battle was won and the game of Golf invented at the same moment.

Nevertheless, Bilbo was beyond glad when they reached an old ruined farm and Thorin decided that they would camp there. He hoped he might get some flat surface to sleep on that night. They were just starting to unsaddle the ponies when Gandalf stormed off. Bilbo discreetly rolled his eyes, it seemed that the leader of the company had a knack for stoking the anger of important people. Night fell and Gandalf had not come back yet. Bofur rationed out dinner and asked Bilbo to bring their food to Fíli and Kíli.

The look on their faces when Bilbo reached them was a familiar one. He had seen it in his tweens on his cousins’ faces whenever they had done some mischief that went wrong and didn’t know how to tell the adults. And what mischief it was! A pack of trolls had made free with their ponies!

“We should inform the others!” Bilbo hissed as soon as they spotted the trolls.

“Well,” drawled Fíli.

“You see,” added Kíli.

“We thought that since you’re our official Burglar,” Fíli continued.

“You could go there and burgle our ponies back!” Kíli finished with a wide grin.

Bilbo rolled his eyes, this was _very_ familiar indeed. He was about to refuse when the pair shot him what only could only be described as puppy-eyes. It was a potent weapon and the brothers wielded it well.

“Fine,” sighed Bilbo.

“Mountain trolls are slow and stupid, they will never see you,” Fíli assured him.

“It is perfectly safe, we'll be right behind you!” added Kíli.

‘Oh I’m so going to regret this!’ thought Bilbo as he stepped out of the bushes.

Unfortunately, like a row of poorly stacked books, one disastrous misstep led to another and Bilbo ended up being hauled by the trolls and being threatened to have his limbs ripped off. Bilbo looked at Thorin, who had his axe raised in battle and did not move at all, weighing Bilbo’s life against the rest of the company’s safety.

‘He’s going to let me die’, thought Bilbo in despair.

But to Bilbo’s surprise, Thorin put his axe down, followed by the others. Soon half the company was bound in sacks and the other half of them tied to a makeshift rotisserie. Bilbo still could reach his sling but he had left his bag of pebbles at the camp and he doubted that it could do any harm to the trolls’ thick hide. He closed his eyes and accepted his not so heroic, fiery, and not to mention _untimely_ death when he heard one very useful fact:

“Dawn ain't far away, let's get a move on. I don't fancy being turned to stone.”

It seemed that the trolls would turn into stone if they were hit by sunlight and dawn _was_ near. This meant Bilbo just had to stall… _but how?_ Bilbo remembered the time when the Thains couldn’t decide how to prepare the cake for the Shire’s thirteen thirty-third anniversary. It was the longest and most tedious meeting Bilbo had to mediate as the Baggins. Bilbo kicked himself for forgetting that he was not wholly unarmed, he still had his _words._

“Wait, you are making a terrible mistake!” exclaimed Bilbo.

Three gigantic heads turned to him.

“This is definitely NOT how to cook dwarves!”

“What do you know about cooking dwarves?” asked Bert.

“Well, have you smelled them? You need to marinate them in something stronger than Sage before you plate this one up.”

Bilbo ignored the dwarves’ accusations in the background, they could call him whatever they liked if they could get out of this situation.

“Can we cook ‘im too?” asked Bill.

“Shut up. Let the burrahobbit talk,” demanded Bert.

“I am a good cook myself, kind sirs!” said Bilbo, “To cook a dwarf you have to soak them with warm water and vinegar first!”

Actually that’s how you prepared a boar, but the dwarves did have a boar-y feel to Bilbo so he rolled with it.

“I see you don’t have vinegar, but I saw some lemongrass grow beside a creek not far from here. It was good for marinating as well and you could get some water there too!” said Bilbo with as much persuasion as he could muster, “I swear you wouldn’t regret it! They would smell and taste so much better!”

“Bill, go fetch those,” said Bert.

“Why do I hav’ta do the hard work?” protested Bill, “Tom, ye do it!”

“Nu-uh, ye heard Bert,” said Tom.

“Now, now, Mister William,” said Bilbo, “We burrahobbits have a saying that food always tastes better after hard work!”

At last Bill grumpily went with a gigantic bucket to find the creek and some lemongrass. There was no creek or lemongrass anywhere nearby, Bilbo just hoped the troll would wander around until dawn was upon him.

“Now what do we do after we soak ‘em all good?” Bert turned back to Bilbo.

“Well...” Bilbo hesitated, the dwarves wouldn’t be very happy about the next step of cooking boar, “After we washed away all the dirt and grime and got them all fragrant...”

“C’mon!” said Tom.

“We skin and quarter them!” blurted Bilbo anyway.

As he suspected, the dwarves roared in outrage and shouted obscenities at him.

“Tom get me filletin’ knife, we’ll cut ‘em _then_ soak ‘em,” said Bert.

“No! NO!” objected Bilbo, “If you do that the grime and dirt will get mixed up with the meat and it will not taste good at all!”

“What a lot of rubbish! I’ve eaten plenty woodmen with skins on, scoffed ‘em up with boots and all! There is nothing wrong with bit of raw dwarfs!” said Tom as he picked Bombur up.

“Raw men yes, but raw _dwarves_ ?” said Bilbo desperately, “They’re infested with _parasites._ You know, worms in their _tubes.”_

Tom dropped Bombur with a disgusted cry while the dwarves protested even more loudly. Then there was a muffled thump and silence. _Finally_ someone caught up to what he was doing. For a group consisting of a king - in exile or not - and his companions, they were not terribly bright were they?

Bilbo could see the weak sunlight backlighting the boulder that shaded them. It was most likely that Bill had turned into stone somewhere out there. Bilbo just had to stall for a little longer but the trolls were getting impatient so Bilbo decided to take one more risky scheme.

“Mister William had gone for quite some time, hadn’t he?” said Bilbo, “Someone better go check on him.”

“He’s right,” said Tom, “Why don’t ye go and check on ‘im?”

“You go check on him,” Bert retorted, “I’m the cook.”

“Fine,” said Tom as he got up, “But I’ll get the fattest dwarf, ye hear me?”

But as soon as Tom stepped out from the crevice, sunlight bathed him and with groans and cracks he turned into stone. Bilbo could hear an angry growl from the other troll behind him, it seemed that his luck had run out.

“You little ferret taking us for a fool!” snarled Bert in outrage as he grabbed Bilbo up, ready to swallow him whole.

‘Oh dear, I’m going to die as a snack’ _,_ thought Bilbo as he was dangling in the air.

Luckily Gandalf, with his perchance for dramatic entrances, decided to appear right then and broke the boulder with a cry,

“Dawn take you all!”

Sunlight flooded the crevice and the last troll turned into stone, with Bilbo still dangling from it’s hand. Bilbo raised an eyebrow at Gandalf.

“Oh, well, one of you...” shrugged Gandalf.

The dwarves cheered for Gandalf’s timely rescue. After all of them were released from their sacks or untied from the rotisserie, they found the trolls’ cave, hid a trunk of treasures, and picked up some new old weapons. Gandalf handed a knife in a leather sheath to Bilbo. It would have made only a tiny pocket-knife for a troll, but it was as good as a short sword for the hobbit. Bilbo took the knife and caught up with Thorin at the cave’s exit.

“I’d like to thank you,” confessed Bilbo.

“For what?” asked Thorin.

“For not letting the trolls rip my arms off, I’m indebted to you.” said Bilbo.

Thorin shot him an odd look,

“Think nothing of it,” said Thorin and he turned to go.

Bilbo was taken aback. It was a huge thing to have the debt of a Baggins in your hand. It was said the Oldbuck family was given the leave to settle across the Brandywine and became a small independent country because Belden Baggins owed Gorhenhad Oldbuck six geese for a feast - it was a big feast and Belden was not prepared therefore the help saved Belden’s face in front of the other Thains and shirefolk. That’s why Bilbo had to be careful of his dealing, settling a debt as soon as possible, and kept his pantry well stocked. Thorin just shrugged it off like it was nothing; it was a refreshing change _._

‘Maybe he isn’t so bad after all’, thought Bilbo.

It somehow reminded Bilbo of the respect and awe in the dwarves’ faces after Balin told his tale about the battle of Azanulbizar. Thorin had a good making for a King and Bilbo supposed he could also learn a thing or two from him. Bilbo walked to join the others with the weight of that thought and his new blade when suddenly a loud rustling was heard from the bushes.

The dwarves readied their weapons in an instant but what came out of the foliage was the oddest man Bilbo had ever seen, in a sled pulled by _rabbits._ Gandalf greeted the man as ‘Radagast’, it seemed that the odd man was the Brown Wizard he mentioned earlier. They were deep in a discussion - some important wizard matter, Bilbo presumed - when a sharp howl pierced the air.

“Wargs,” said Bofur, “Which means an Orc pack is not far behind.”

“We have to get out of here,” said Thorin.

So began the oddest and most deangerous merry chase that Bilbo ever been involved in. Bilbo tried not to think of what he had done to deserve such fate and did his best to keep up with the dwarves. If Bilbo wasn’t so distracted by the Orcs, the wizards, and _the rabbits_ , he would suspect Gandalf was subtly leading them to the Valley of Imladris despite Thorin’s refusal. But Bilbo did not suspect and was struck with awe when he saw the valley.

“Rivendell,” he sighed, “the Last Homely House East of the Sea...”


	6. Chapter 5 - The Last Homely House

Rivendell is the only Elven realm in relations with the Shire. Not many Hobbits knew about it except for the Thains and the Bagginses. Bilbo was one of the lucky ones, for a pair of elves had come to the Shire with the North Rangers to assist them with the wolves infestation during the Fell Winter and enjoyed the hospitality of Bag End. It gave strength to the teaching that was passed generation through generations of Bagginses that _in dire need, help will come from Rivendell._

So while the dwarves proceeded warily, Bilbo took time to take in the sights around him. There came a burst of song like laughter in the trees, it was a silly song filled with teasing of the dwarves. 

_O! Where are you going_

_With beards all a-wagging?_

_No knowing, no knowing_

_What brings Mister Baggins_

_And a throng of dwarf-kin_

_down into the valley_

_in June! Ha! Ha!_

Bilbo felt his heart and his feet lighten. He gave a small chuckle for the elves definitely meant for the dwarves to understand their teasing since they sang in the language of men. Thus the dwarves, rightly so and especially Thorin, became more and more irritated as they passed by.

At last they reached a flat circular area just inside the entrance arch and a tall young elf came and greeted Gandalf,

“Mithrandir!” said the elf, “My Lord Elrond is not here.”

Before Gandalf could answer the elf, Bilbo heard the sound of a horn and galloping horses and he was swiftly pulled into the middle of a huddle of growling dwarves. Bilbo rolled his eyes, he knew that Dwarves don't get on well with elves but did they have to be so _hostile?_ The riders come to a halt after circling the company and the leader greeted Gandalf.

“Lord Elrond,” replied Gandalf. 

Lord Elrond then proceeded to converse with Gandalf in elvish. Bilbo tried to follow but his spoken elvish was very rusty indeed and he could only catch one word out of ten. The last time he heard elvish was when the pair of elfs visitors kindly helped him to practice. So Bibo settled for observing the elf-lord and thought that he was much more dignified than the other elves. 

Bilbo cringed when Elrond greeted Thorin and was replied with less than kind words. Royalty or not, that dwarf really needed a refresher course for his manners. Then Elrond turned to Bilbo, took one look at his brass buttons, and greeted,

“The Baggins of the Shire himself! Good day to you Mister Baggins, how is the Shire?”

Bilbo was surprised, he didn’t expect Elrond to recognize him as the Baggins for he was very dirty and rumpled from the journey, and even greeted him in the proper hobbit way! Bilbo then thought of the silly song he heard from the trees and decided that it was the way of the elves to know these things. So Bilbo ignored the looks shot by the dwarves. He then bowed his head slightly and put his left hand on his chest, responding,

“ _Elen síla lúmenn’ omentielvo_ my Lord Elrond,” Bilbo greeted him in the old elvish language. He knew that his accent was atrocious but he was trying his best! “The Shire is as beautiful and fruitful as ever.”

Elrond’s face lightened and he smiled.

“Welcome Mister Baggins to Rivendell. Come! You must be weary, lunch was preparing I believe.”

The company was ushered to the dining hall and more odd looks were given to Bilbo as he was seated with Gandalf and Thorin at Elrond’s table, not with the rest of the company.

“I believe the Shire has completely recovered from the Fell Winter?” asked Elrond.

“We have, it’s almost like it never happened at all. It was harsh but we survived, thanks to the North Rangers...” Bilbo paused, “...and your help too.”

“It gladdens my heart to hear that,” Elrond smiled, “And my sons will also be glad to hear that the young hobbit they met remembers them!”

Bilbo blushed at that for he was only twenty one at that time, barely into his tweens and he was a _precocious_ child. He was also not aware that the twin Elven warriors were Elrond sons!

“Your sons?” so he asked.

“Yes, they are out patrolling right now. However you might meet them if you plan to stay in Rivendell for some time, Mister Baggins.” Said Elrond.

“Please call me Bilbo!” said Bilbo cheerfully.

At that moment, Thorin put down his cup more loudly than was necessary. Bilbo was startled and gave Thorin a questioning look while Elrond shot a similar look to Gandalf. Gandalf let out a barely concealed snort and cleared his throat.

“I believe we have found some weapons you might recognize,” said Gandalf.

He then proceeded to show Elrond the blades they took from the trolls' cave.

“This is Orcrist the Goblin Cleaver, a famous blade forged by the High Elves from the West. May it serve you well,” Elrond gave the sword back to Thorin.

“And this is Glamdring the Foe Hammer, once belonging to the King of Gondolin. It will do many deeds in your hands, Mithrandir.” 

Elrond eyed Gandalf knowingly. Gandalf took the sword back solemnly.

“Ah! This is a long-knife, forged in the same age as Glamdring and Orcist. It has not been named yet for it has not seen battle. Take it with you Mister Baggins and name it as you see fit.”

Bilbo took his sword and felt its weight on his hand. 

‘What shall I name it? I know nothing of sword names!’ he thought anxiously.

“Relax Bilbo, you should name it _after_ you had done something with it,” said Gandalf.

Bilbo heard a chuckle from Thorin and felt heat bloom on his face to his ear tips.

After their meal Bilbo inquired about means to clean himself and was promtply led to a bathing chamber. He eagerly scrubbed himself clean, from the tip of his pointy ears to his furry toes. Feeling clean and refreshed for the first time in days he put on fresh clothes and went to explore. He found the dwarves making camp in one of the beautiful courtyard, even though Bilbo was _sure_ that the elves had provided rooms for them. A fire was burning merrily in the middle of the camp and Bilbo did a double take,

‘They build fire using the elves’ _furniture!?’_

Bilbo could not believe his eyes, he quickly turned around before any of the dwarves spotted him. He most definitely _was not_ going to be involved in the destruction of their hosts’ furniture. He went on to explore Rivendell on his own, he passed by many beautiful gardens and halls, and there was a great library that he would definitely come back to. Bilbo was looking out from a small balcony, enjoying the view, when Elrond came to him.

“Bilbo!” said Elrond, “Did you find Rivendell to your liking?”

“It is very much to my liking.” Bilbo replied, “It seems to be perfect whether you liked food, or sleep, or work, or story-telling, or singing, or just sitting and thinking best, or a pleasant mixture of them all!”

Elrond seemed to be pleased by Bilbo’s answer. Buoyed by the good mood, Bilbo dared himself to ask about a matter that has been burdening him for a number of years.

“My Lord Elrond,” said Bilbo, “I have a matter that I would like to ask you. However I prefer that we should not be overheard when I do so.”

Elrond looked at Bilbo curiously and said, “You may speak freely here Bilbo, you will not be overheard.”

“Very well,” Bilbo took a deep breath, “Do you know what fate befall Gilraen and Aragorn?”

Bilbo’s question must have surprised the Elf-Lord greatly for he was silent for a few seconds.

“How do you come by those names?” Elrond finally asked.

“Kingdom or no kingdom, the shirefolk _are_ subjects to the King of the North,” Bilbo explained, “But more than that, Arathorn was a dear friend of mine. I have known him since I was a babe and we stayed friends until his untimely demise. He sent me a letter when he wedded Gilraen and another when Aragorn was born. However when news of his death came to me nothing was mentioned about them.”

“I see…” said Elrond.

“I have thought to ask Halalad about them but I held my tongue for Arathorn spoke of measures of secrecy regarding Aragorn’s birth.”

Elrond fell silent again. He looked at Bilbo intently, judging his sincerity. After a while, he must have judged Bilbo to be sincere for he said,

“I do know of Gilraen’s and Aragorn’s fate. Come with me Bilbo.”

Bilbo followed Elrond down many hallways until they reached a door. Elrond bid him to wait by the door as he entered it. After a few moment the Elrond opened the door, 

“Please come in,” he said.

Bilbo entered the chamber and in there he saw a young woman and a boy with dark hair.

“Bilbo Baggins, at your service.” Bilbo introduced himself.

“Bilbo Baggins!” said the young woman, “I have heard many stories of you from my husband. I am Gilraen and this is Estel.”

Bilbo looked at the boy and found Arathorn’s likeness in his face, and a burden lifted from his heart.

“You know my father?” Estel asked.

“Indeed I do my boy,” said Bilbo gently, “And I must say, it is very nice to finally meet you.”

Elrond left them not long after that but Bilbo stayed and traded stories with Gilraen and Estel. He had to hold his tongue a few times for Estel was not yet told about his heritage, and as far as the boy knew, his father was but a ranger. Nevertheless, Bilbo was greatly heartened to see both of them well and he went to supper with a light heart. 

After supper, Elrond read the moon runes for them, it was an exercise in frustrations for all parties involved. Bilbo was walking with Thorin and Balin to their rooms from the moon chamber when Thorin grumbled curses after curses for the Elf-Lord. Bilbo was greatly bothered by it for the curses became more and more scandalous, Elrond may have called Thorin a fool indirectly but Thorin’s behaviour wasn’t exemplary either.

“Must you be that rude?” sighed Bilbo.

“What do you know? You are but a little halfling.” sneered Thorin.

“I know enough to see that your behaviour was not acceptable for a King!” Bilbo glared at Thorin.

“Enough! I will not hear a word more from you, Hobbit!”

“If that’s how you treat every leader of races other than your own, Thorin son of Thráin, I wonder why your people haven’t perished in wars waged against you.” Bilbo didn’t shout but his tone was icy.

Bilbo walked away towards his chamber, head held high, leaving a stunned Thorin behind. Bilbo was seething in anger, he meant to go back to his chamber but at this rate he would not be able to rest. So he walked around and let the night air cool him off. At a distance, he could hear the dwarves’ laughing and merrymaking. Bilbo sighed. He had grown to like most of the company but _Thorin,_ that dwarf seemed to have a personal vendetta against _everything._

Bilbo reached a balcony, he leaned on the bars and rubbed his temples. Bilbo started to feel a little bit guilty about his outburst. He really should have handled that more carefully or at least waited until Thorin was less aggravated, but Thorin had touched a sore spot.

_“What do you know? You are but a little halfling.”_

Bilbo heaved another sigh. He had been young when his father passed away, a year shy of his coming of age. Most of the Thains had thought he was too young and not knowledgeable enough to be the next Baggins; there were even talks about a regent started by Longo Sackville-Baggins. Fortunately his mother had put her foot down fiercely with all of the might of a Took and Bilbo became the 31st Baggins at thirty two. Despite the initial worries, Bilbo ruled well, but insinuating that he knew nothing of the responsibilities of a ruler was still a sore spot for Bilbo.

Bilbo thought of his father. His father was a good Baggins, if it was his father in this situation he would give Thorin a few choices of words without even raising his voice and leave him questioning his own conduct. Meanwhile his mother... Bilbo chuckled, his mother would add a good clap round the ear. Bilbo felt his anger ease away, he stretched his back and walked back to his room, deciding that tomorrow he’d find a chance to make peace with Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SIndarin Translation:  
> Elen síla lúmenn’ omentielvo = a star shine upon the hour of our meeting
> 
> I made an omake for the previous version of this story. But I still find it fitting and quite funny. You can find it [here](http://fangirlyra.tumblr.com/post/41127870110/a-small-omake-for-my-ongoing-fic-on-the-hobbit). 
> 
> I also have uploaded a side story. For you who wants to see more of the inner working of the Shire in this AU please [check it out](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24149398)! It has young Bilbo and Arathorn in it :D.
> 
> Regarding Bilbo's friendship with Arathorn:  
> With The Shire basically running itself, Bilbo's responsibilities is mostly foreign relations therefore he would be familiar with the rangers. The Dunedain always strikes me as very grim people with tragic past, and it is my head!canon that they find The Shire like a little ray of sunshine. So these things resulted in Bilbo's friendship with Arathorn (you get a glimpse of this in the side story linked above).
> 
> Canon never tell us exactly how much was kept from Estel/Aragorn about his heritage when he was a kid. But with the Dunedain's relationship with Rivendell, I think it makes sense if he was told that his father was one of the rangers.
> 
> What do you think?


	7. Chapter 6 – Goblins and Orcs

Bilbo never got his chance to talk to Thorin for the next day they left at dawn. They left discreetly under the cover of the darkness so that the elves couldn’t stop them. Gandalf was called into council and told them that he will delay the council from noticing their leave. 

So back on the road they went. Bilbo found himself more used to their travels and started to enjoy his adventure. The only fly in his honey is Thorin Oakenshield, for the leader of the company treated Bilbo with even more disdain since that night in Rivendell. Thorin ignored him for most part so that wasn’t much of a change but on the occasions that he _did_ speak to him it was nothing but cutting remarks bordering on insult.

Thankfully, it seemed that Thorin hadn't told the other dwarves about his little outburst last night, for they did not treat him any differently. Fíli and Kíli even started to teach him how to properly wield his sword and Bifur would spar with him when they had the time.

One late afternoon Bilbo sat down to smoke after they made camp. He had gathered firewood with Dori and Bifur earlier. Bilbo suspected that Dori might be the strongest of the dwarves despite his prim appearances. He had easily carried all of the firewood they gathered with one hand, politely refusing Bilbo’s help. 

He took a deep inhale from his pipe and looked around the camp, Bofur and Bombur were by the fire preparing their supper. He saw Fíli and Kíli come by to sit by him, finished with their duties. Bilbo suspected that the young dwarves would ask for a story. Bilbo smiled around his pipe, story-times had quickly become one of Bilbo’s favourite times in this journey.

“Tell us more about Hobbits!” said Kíli.

Bilbo puffed out a mighty smoke ring and chuckled.

“What stories would you like to hear? I’m afraid I do not have any more battle stories handy.”

“How about courting habits?” said Fíli, “That would be interesting.”

Kíli perked up and exclaimed his agreement. Bilbo raised an eyebrow, that question was a little improper. Courting habits were usually told by parents to their children together with the talk about ‘bird and bees’ and always done in private. But they were not talking about ‘bird and bees’ and Bilbo couldn’t see any harm in telling them.

“Alright,” agreed Bilbo.

The brothers smiled and settled; from the corner of his eyes he could see Ori leaning their direction while his fingers were still writing neatly in his book.

“Would you like to join us, Ori?” Bilbo asked.

Ori blushed a little but quickly settled beside Fíli and brought his book with him. To Bilbo’s surprise, Bofur also joined them.

“Bombur can do the rest of the cooking,” he shrugged and sat beside Ori.

Fair enough, Bofur was a nice audience anyway. Bilbo cleared his throat and began,

“Hobbits start to court by giving an extraordinary present. It could be anything, intricate carvings, jewelleries, tools, but usually something extravagant for the courter, or flashy, or have a deep meaning for the courted, and should always be made by their own hand. The first present will always belong to the courted regardless if they accepted the courting or not.”

“What is the most extravagant gift ever given?” asked Kíli.

“Well I don’t want to boast but since you asked, the most extravagant courting gift ever was given by Bungo Baggins, my father, to Belladonna Took, my mother,” said Bilbo with pride.

“What is it?” asked Ori, wide eyed.

“You’ve all seen it and slept in it,” said Bilbo, “My father single-handedly built Bag-End for my mother.”

The dwarves let out a series of exclamations, clearly impressed and Ori gushed about how romantic it was. Bilbo smiled and continued,

“When the courted has accepted the courting, next comes the six sets of courting flowers. There’s a song for it.”

Bilbo cleared his throat and started to sing,

_ “First comes the Red Rose of true love aflame, _

_ and give me back an Ambrosia if you feel the same. _

_ Second comes the Lavender for my everlasting loyalty, _

_ and give me back a Heliotrope for your sincerity. _

_ Third comes the Lily of the Valley ‘cause I trust you, _

_ and give me back an Aster if you trust me too. _

__

_ Forth comes the Gardenia for the joys we have today, _

_ and give me back a Celandine for more along the way. _

_ Fifth comes the Azalea for passion beyond measure, _

_ and give me back a Red Poppy for promised pleasure. _

_ Last comes the Primrose for eternal love that dawned, _

_ and give me back a Honeysuckle to seal our bond.” _

Bilbo finished the song and looked at his enthralled audience. He felt rather chuffed with himself in wake of the wide eyed wonder that the young dwarves emoted.

“The more traditional hobbits would tell you that you must keep the flowers that were exchanged fresh and alive for they will be woven into a crown that will be exchanged on their wedding day. But that’s a little ridiculous and very rarely done nowadays except if one of them was in the family way. Courtship usually lasted a number of years nowadays and flowers do not last that long no matter how green a thumb a hobbit has,” Bilbo ended his story.

He took a deep whiff from his pipe and blew out a perfect smoke ring. Turning to the dwarves, he asked,

“How about dwarves? How do  _ you _ court?”

“We dwarves of Blue Mountains are mostly miners, so we have a set of courting gems,” said Bofur, “It is similar to your courting flowers but nothing has to be given back in exchange. If it is accepted they keep it and they give it back if it is not.

“There’s four stones in the set,” Bofur raised four of his fingers.

“First one is an Opal, which means hope. That’s how we ask permission to court,” he folded in one finger.

“Second one is a Sapphire or a Turquoise, both mean sincerity. If it is accepted then we become lovers,” he folded in the second finger.

“Third one is a Ruby, for passion, or a Garnet, for long lasting love. That’s how we ask for their hand in marriage,” he folded in the third finger.

“The last one is an Emerald, which means love, new life, and fertility. It is given on the marriage ceremony and accepting it means the marriage is official,” he folded in his last finger. “That’s how we court in the Blue Mountains. But I think you Durin’s Folk did it differently?”

Bilbo turned to Fíli, Kíli, and Ori, who suddenly looked down and shifted their eyes.

“It should be...” started Kíli.

“But we don’t know actually...” continued Fíli.

“It wasn’t written in any books!” said Ori.

“And when we asked people...” said Kíli.

“They never answered and would look very sad and forlorn," finished Fíli.

All three dwarves sighed in defeat. It seemed that they had tried to find out when they were younger but their search was in vain. That’s when Balin suddenly took a seat between Bilbo and Bofur and said,

“I think I can help you with that.”

Balin smiled as the three young dwarves perked up and looked at him with hope.

“It was a fairly simple process. We asked permission to court by asking our intended to stay in our home,” explained Balin, “If they agree to be courted, they would come and stay in our home for around one year. This was like a trial period you see...”

Five heads nodded.

“Outside, we would continue as usual, but inside the house gifts would be exchanged and sometimes intimacies too,” he continued, “If everything went well the courting would result in marriage, if it didn’t the courted would move back to their own home. Dwarves do not have children easily so if a child is conceived during the courting period it is taken as a sign that Mahal blessed the union.”

“That’s why people avoided that question,” said Balin to Kíli, Fíli, and Ori, “Because most of us didn’t feel that we had a proper home.”

“Is that why Uncle never courted anybody?” asked Kíli.

Balin chuckled at that, “In Thorin’s case, I think he just hasn’t found someone worth courting.”

Bilbo pondered that for a while before something hit him.

“Thorin is your uncle?” he asked Fíli and Kíli.

“Yes?” answered Fíli.

“I didn’t know that...” said Bilbo

“Now you do!” said Kíli as if it wasn’t an important matter.

Before Bilbo could say anything else, Bombur called out that dinner was ready. The group dispersed to gather their bowls for dinner.

As the days passed by through their journey, many more stories were exchanged between Bilbo and the dwarves. Fíli, Kíli, and more often than not Ori were always curious about Hobbits customs and cultures. Balin was fond of heroic tales of kingdoms and wars, Dwalin never told a story on his own but would often chime in when Balin was telling one. Dori who was a weaver knew many love tales and used to make those tales into beautiful tapestries. Bofur knew plenty of children's tales, Bilbo found out that Bombur had seven dwarflings back in the Blue Mountains and they all love their Uncle Bofur’s stories. Bifur rarely talked, but often sat with them.

Unfortunately the one dwarf that Bilbo would like to talk to the most never joined their story-time. Bilbo kept looking for a chance to talk with Thorin, but the exiled king dismissed him every time before Bilbo could utter a single word. Bilbo grew frustrated, he even thought of sending words to Thorin through Fíli or Kíli. But apologies should be said in person, not through other people. He started to feel that it was not worth it. 

To further Bilbo’s frustration, the rain poured down buckets that day. The road became very slippery, so Bilbo pushed unnecessary thought to the back of his mind and watched his step. He almost slipped and fell once they reached a narrow mountain pass near the top. Thankfully, Dwalin grabbed him and pulled him back.

Then Bilbo saw them, giant stone figures hurling boulders at each other. Bilbo was struck in awe and fear. Then the ground beneath them started to move as well, they were standing on another stone giant!

Bilbo prayed for a swift death as the rock they were standing on clashed with the mountainside. But his wishes were not granted as he somehow slipped and now hung on to dear life with his fingertips.

“No, Fíli! NO!!”

Bilbo could hear Thorin's desperate call at his nephew, as despite all his sour and tough appearance he did have a soft side. Bilbo found himself wishing that the call was aimed at  _ him _ .

‘Foolish thought of a dying hobbit,’ thought Bilbo, for he held on as tight as he could but he could feel his grip slipping and his feet couldn’t find a footing.

“Where is Bilbo? Where is the Hobbit?” he heard Bofur called.

_ ‘ _ Yavanna blesses Bofur and his kind heart,’ Bilbo thought in relief.

Kíli grabbed his left hand right before Bilbo’s grip finally slipped but Bofur reached for his other hand too late. Thorin looked down on him as he tried in vain to reach Bofur’s hand and the king actually jumped down to a notch on the cliff and hauled Bilbo up.

“I thought we had lost our burglar,” said Bofur as they caught their breaths.

Bilbo looked up and saw Thorin give him an infuriated look.

‘Come on Bilbo! Say something! Thank him! Apologize! Anything!’ Bilbo kicked himself in his mind, but Thorin opened his mouth before he could collect his words.

“He's been lost ever since he left home. He should never have come! He has no place amongst us!”

Bilbo winced, the words stinging like a blade to his chest. He barely noticed when the dwarves led him into a small cave. He kept thinking of Thorin’s word. Bilbo had tried hard to keep up with the dwarves throughout the journey and he thought that the dwarves had shared his sense of friendship with him. 

‘Was Thorin right? Was he just a burden to the rest of the company?’ 

Night fell and Bilbo could not fall asleep for his thoughts were plaguing him. He finally gave up on it and took out his pipe. He quietly walked around the sleeping dwarves and went to the mouth of the cave.

“Where do you think you’re going?” asked Thorin who was keeping watch.

Bilbo cursed his luck, of all dwarves why must it be this one?

“For a smoke.” said Bilbo matter-of-factly.

Thorin was silent for a few moments and Bilbo could only guess what the dwarf was thinking.

“Do as you wish,” grunted Thorin.

Bilbo sat down and lit his pipe. He took a deep breath and blew out a cloud of smoke. 

‘Well Bilbo,’ he thought to himself, ‘You wished for a chance to talk to Thorin and here it is!’

So Bilbo cleared his throat and said, “I apologize for my words in Rivendell... and thank you, for saving my life… again,”

Silence hung between them like a blanket, thick and heavy on his shoulders. Bilbo turned away and hunched his back, not sure what he was waiting for.

“You-,” Thorin tried to say something, but at the same time the dirt underneath them began to shift. Thorin yelled for the other dwarves to wake up but it was too late. The ground opened and down they fell.

Down and down they fell until they landed in some sort of wooden contraption and goblins swarmed them. The goblins tore through their packs and disarmed them, Bilbo crouched down and made himself as small as possible and to his relief the goblins had missed Bilbo. Off they carried the rest of the company and left Bilbo behind.

_ ‘What should I do now?’ _

He couldn’t leave the company in the hands of these goblins and he didn’t know the way out anyway, so Bilbo drew his sword and tried to follow them. But before he could get too far, a goblin jumped at him and knocked both of them off the platform, and down Bilbo fell again.

Bilbo came into consciousness and he was… not dead, some sort of mushrooms had cushioned his fall. There he picked up a small simple golden ring and he saw the most curious creature he’d ever seen. Neither a goblin nor an orc, it was unlike any other races Bilbo ever saw. The creature seemed to either want to eat him or play games with him. It was an obvious choice really, so Bilbo played the most bizarre riddle game of his life.

The game ended abruptly when the creature became suddenly enraged after it couldn’t answer Bilbo’s last question - it was not a valid riddle he granted, but Bilbo was not at his best state of mind - and hissed about ‘his precious’ that was lost. Suddenly the creature charged, so Bilbo bolted. After a narrow escape - very narrow indeed, for he lost all his brass buttons - he tripped and fell and the ring slipped onto his finger. 

The creature leapt after him but passed him by, apparently the ring had made him invisible! Bilbo followed the creature silently in hopes that it would lead him to the exit. His hope was not in vain for after a while he saw Gandalf and the dwarves run by the tunnel he was in. He needed to follow them quickly before he lost them again!

But the creature was between them. Bilbo drew his sword to kill it, but a sudden understanding, a pity mixed with horror, welled up in Bilbo's heart. A glimpse of endless unmarked days without light or hope of betterment, hard stone, cold fish, sneaking and whispering. All these thoughts passed in a flash of a second and it stayed Bilbo’s hand. 

So Bilbo sheathed his sword, took a few steps back, then he ran and leaped over the creature. It tried to catch him but it failed. Bilbo ran and ran, out of the tunnel, down the hill, until he heard Gandalf bellowed,

“What happened exactly? Tell me!”

Bilbo sighed in relief and ran down towards the company.

“I’ll tell you what happened!” Thorin’s voice made Bilbo stop his tracks. He hid behind a tree nearby and listened.

“Mister Baggins saw his chance and he took it. He's of thought nothing but his soft bed and warm house since his first step out his door. We will not be seeing our Hobbit again, he is long gone,” said Thorin.

Bilbo rested his head on the tree bark, he was quite tired of Thorin’s insinuations. Still he found himself  _ wanting _ . He wanted to see more of this world, he wanted to be with the company through the end, he wanted to prove that Thorin was  _ wrong, _ but most of all he wanted to see that stubborn dwarf take back his home, to see him walk with pride again. So he took off the ring and walked out of the shadows.

“No, he isn’t.”

Bilbo savoured the relieved and surprised looks aimed at him.

“Bilbo, we'd given you up,” said Kíli.

“How in hell did you get past the goblins?” asked Fíli.

"I just...crept along, you know - very carefully and quietly," Bilbo hoped the answer satisfied the dwarves. For reasons unknown to himself he was quite reluctant to tell the company about the ring and the odd creature.

“What does it matter? He is back!” exclaimed Gandalf gladly.

“It matters,” said Thorin, “I want to know. Why did you come back?”

Now  _ that _ Bilbo would gladly answer.

“I know you doubt me but I never  _ left _ . And you're right, I often think of the Shire, from the northern moors to the marshes in the south, from the Brandywine River to the White Downs. See, that's where I belong, that's home for my people.”

Bilbo looked Thorin straight in the eyes.

“That’s also why I agreed to come to this journey and that's why I will stay until the end. You didn’t have one, a place to belong and a place to call home for your people. It was taken from you... So I will help you take it back if I can.”

Bilbo held his gaze and Thorin was the first one to look away. And again when Thorin was about to say something the universe intervened, this time with howls of wargs. So off they ran again, down the hill and up the trees with wargs snapping at their ankles. Then like a scene out of a nightmare, Azog the Pale Orc appeared, tall on his white warg, full of spite, and very much  _ alive. _ Bilbo saw Thorin’s eyes become wild, terror, disbelief, and vengeance running in them like a wildfire.

The orc roared an order in a language Bilbo did not understand and the wargs charged against them, shaking the trees and breaking the lower branches. The trees were soon uprooted and crashed to each other as the company scrambled to the furthermost trees.

The wargs chased after them but Gandalf set one pine cone aflame and threw it whizzing down among the circle of the wolves. Other flaming pine cones were passed to the dwarves, which they used to set more alight. They hurled the fiery pine cones to the ground, making a flaming barrier between their pine and the wargs. But the tree could not hold the weight of thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and a wizard for too long and it began to topple.

Azog smirked for he was content to see the company fall down into the abyss. Bilbo cursed as Thorin walked passed him, through the fiery branches, and charged straight at the pale orc.

‘For Old Toby’s sake! If the wargs and orcs can’t come after you it doesn’t mean you should go after them, you suicidal dwarf! _ ’ _

And he watched in horror as Azog used Thorin as a chew toy for his warg. Bilbo brandished his sword without thinking as the warg flung Thorin into a rock, he could not let the dwarf die. The pale orc climbed down from his steed and walked slowly towards Thorin, raising his mace to unleash one last deadly blow upon Thorin’s skull.

Bilbo did not know what came over him but he flung himself into the orc, sending both of them toppling to the ground. Azog raised his mace again to strike Bilbo but Bilbo was much faster than the Orc. Swiftly he thrusted his sword upwards, he did not know whether Yavanna guided his hand or just pure luck but his sword had pierced the Orc clean through his throat. The orc let out a gurgle and dropped his mace, and Bilbo yanked his sword out. 

The white warg charged after him so without thinking he leapt and rammed his sword in the warg’s skull, right between its eyes. He wrenched it out as the warg fell dead at his feet, his blade glistening with black blood. The other orcs and wargs snarled at him but hesitated to charge. Bilbo raised his sword and stood in front of Thorin.

“I am the Baggins of the Shire and I am the Defiler’s end!”

And he charged, followed by Kíli, Fíli, and Dwalin. The wargs and orcs fought back but they managed to hold their own though Bilbo doubted they could do it for much longer. Then a loud screech was heard and the eagles were upon them like huge black shadows. Their talons tore into the enemies and they seized the company. Bilbo was lifted to the sky on one great talon and soon the light of the burning forest was faint below, a red twinkle on the black floor. They soared high up in the sky, leaving the mountains behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a companion piece that is written from Thorin's POV about everything that had happened up until this chapter. You can find it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049639).


	8. Chapter 7 - Beans out of the Baggins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 22/5/2020: Added the bit with the eagles and split this into two chapters.

The eagles set them down gently on a rough platform high on the mountain. Gandalf rushed to Thorin as the dwarves gathered in a worried huddle around his still form. Bilbo stood back, the adrenaline rush had abated and now he was not sure what to do. He was peering worriedly when Thorin came into consciousness and asked for him.

“It’s alright, he’s quite safe,” Gandalf replied and gestured to Bilbo.

“Azog?” asked Thorin as he sat up.

“Dead. We’re sure of it this time,” said Dwalin, who was helping him.

“How?”

“Bilbo stuck his knife through his throat,” Kíli confirmed.

At that Thorin stood up abruptly, shrugging off the dwarves that tried to help him. He looked at Bilbo with such a menacing glare that Bilbo took a step back in a flash of fear. Thorin froze like he had been slapped in the face, and just like that he turned his back to Bilbo, leaving the hobbit at a loss.

Bilbo looked around and saw that the eagles were perched on the edge of the platform in a circle around them. He couldn’t help but feel slightly afraid, hobbits are small and these eagles could easily gobbled him up. Bilbo turned to Gandalf, who was shooting disapproving looks at Thorin. When Gandalf’s gaze met Bilbo’s bewildered one, he closed his eyes with a sigh, pinched the bridge of his nose, and decided to talk to their rescuer.

“Gwaihir,” said Gandalf to the largest eagle, “Thank you for your timely rescue.”

“Speak nothing of it Mithrandir,” said Gwaihir, “We are glad to cheat the orcs of their sport and glad to repay our thanks to you.”

“But you have no such debt to us,” said Thorin, “For that we offer you our thanks.”

Bilbo was a little bit surprised by that, the dwarf could be polite if he wanted to after all. Gwaihir looked at Thorin with his golden eye and clicked his beak.

“I know of you Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór ,” said Gwaihir, “and I know of your bitter hatred towards the orcs. In that we are kindred spirits for our hatchlings could not fly over these mountains without risking poisoned arrows and lances.”

Thorin nodded his head in acceptance.

“We shall fly you down tomorrow,” said Gwaihir, “Do you have any particular directions we should take you to?”

“We are travelling east, towards Esgaroth.” said Thorin.

Gwaihir looked at his companions and they clicked their beaks at each other.

“We do not fly near the settlements of men,” said the eagle on Gwaihir’s right, ““They would shoot at us with their great bows of yew, we will not risk ourselves for dwarves in the eastward plains.”

“Mayhaps near the Carrock?” Gandalf interjected.

Bilbo had no idea where the Carrock was but the dwarves did not argue with Gandalf.

“That could be arranged.” Gwaihir agreed.

“We are deeply obliged to you,” said Balin, “But in the meantime... we are famished with hunger.”

Gwaihir made a sound that could be a huff of laughter but Bilbo wasn’t sure.

“That can perhaps be mended,” he said.

He gave a series of clicks and chitter towards his companions and four of the Eagles flew off. They came back with dry boughs for fuel, and they had caught rabbits and hares. The dwarves managed all the preparations, Bilbo tried to help but none of them would let him.

“You just sit tight Bilbo.” said Bofur, “Don’t you worry about it!”

Soon Bilbo’s stomach was feeling full and comfortable again and he felt he could sleep contentedly. He curled up on a hard rock as all of his companions did but the platform was exposed and soon he was shivering with cold. He tried to stop his teeth from chattering to no avail, around him the dwarves were already fast asleep. Suddenly he felt a beak poking on his side. Bilbo turned around and saw that it was one of the Eagles.

“Are you cold, little one?” asked the eagle.

“Y-yes.” Bilbo managed to get out between his chattering teeth.

“Come, you can sleep under my wing.” the Eagle offered.

Bilbo was very thankful and slowly burrowed his body amongst the feathers.

“You are no dwarf and I have never seen the likes of you,” said the Eagle as Bilbo settled himself, “What are you?”

“I’m Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, Master Eagle,” answered Bilbo, “I am a hobbit.”

“Hobbit! What a curious creature! I saw you slew the Pale Orc and his warg.” said the Eagle, “I am Landroval, Gwaihir the Lord of the Eagles is my brother. Well met brave hobbit!”

“It was mostly luck methinks,” said Bilbo already falling asleep, “Well met Landroval.”

Landroval made that sound that could be laughter and said,

“Sleep now. We have a long journey tomorrow.”

He folded his wing over Bilbo and Bilbo slept more soundly than ever he had done on his feather-bed in his own little hole at home. The next morning Bilbo woke up by being jostled. He blinked out the sleep from his eyes and he can hear people shouting about.

“Maybe he fell off the platform!” 

“No! Bilbo!”

Landroval made the sound that was  _ definitely  _ laughter, Bilbo was sure about it. He poked Bilbo gently with his beak and said,

“I think your companions are looking for you.”

Bilbo popped out his head between Landroval’s feathers and was confronted by the sight of thirteen frantic dwarves. 

“Uh...here I am?” said Bilbo hesitantly.

“Bilbo!” cried Fíli.

“Scared a decade out of my life..” grumbled Dwalin.

Thorin just looked at Bilbo sourly. Bilbo decided to ignore the dwarf and climb out of Landroval many  _ many  _ feathers. He thanked Landroval and walked towards the dwarfs.

“I was cold…” he muttered embarrassedly.

“Should’ve said something Mister Baggins, I could’ve lent you my cloak,” fussed Dori, “Now sit down and have some breakfast.”

He took the stick of cold meat from Dori with a small smile. He had seen Dori fussing over Ori and Nori (with  _ very _ different reception) similarly many times during their journey. And after that he had to get ready for a fresh start. This time, they were allowed to climb on the Eagles.

“You’re with me, Bilbo Baggins.” said Landroval.

Bilbo carefully climbed on the Eagle’s back and clung between his wings.

“Don’t pull on my feathers too hard,” said Landroval, “I will not let you fall.”

Bilbo could only nod and released his grip slightly. Off rose the great birds from the mountain’s side. The sun was still close to the eastern edge of things. The morning was cool, and mists were in the valleys and hollows and twined here and there about the peaks and pinnacles of the hills.

After a good while the eagles must have seen the point they were making for, even from their great height, for they began to go down circling round in great spirals. Cropping out of the ground was a great rock, almost a hill of stone, like a last outpost of the distant mountains. Quickly now to the top of this rock the eagles swooped one by one and set down their passengers. Landroval swopped down last and set Bilbo down.

“Farewell Bilbo Baggins,” said Landroval, “wherever you fare, till your eyries receive you at the journey’s end.”

“May the wind under your wings bear you where the sun sails and the moon walks, Landroval” answered Bilbo.

Landroval flapped his great wings and took off, joining his brethren in the sky. Soon the eagles were but small dots in the horizon. Bilbo heard Thorin barked instructions for Dwalin and Nori to inspect their surroundings and find a suitable shelter. 

Dwalin and Nori returned and relayed that there was a path leading down to a river. Near the bottom of the path was a little cave; it was a wholesome one with a pebbly floor and definitely not a Goblin front-porch. They were sure, they triple checked the walls and floor. There the party gathered and discussed what was to be done, while taking turns cleaning themselves and their clothes in the river.

The water was shallow and clear and Bilbo was glad because he was itching to be clean. He could worry about what Thorin was thinking later when he was free from grime and dirt. Bilbo took off his clothes and gingerly walked into the cool water, not noticing a certain black-haired dwarf followed his every movement with his eyes.

The sun was strong and warm, and soon all of the company was cleaned, refreshed, and re-energized with a clear destination. Apparently, Gandalf knew a skin-changer named Beorn who lived nearby. However, he disliked strangers and beggars and was very dangerous if angered so they needed a clever scheme so that he would help them. And how lucky they were to have a wizard amongst them, for clever scheming was what a wizard did best!

After a while, they passed bee pastures with the most enormous honeybees Bilbo ever saw buzzing around large flowers and came to a belt of tall and very ancient oaks. Gandalf divided the dwarves into pairs and instructed them to wait for his cue to follow him down the path to Beorn’s home in pairs, with Bombur leaving last. And with that, he set off along the hedge taking Bilbo with him. When they passed through the gate and far enough from the dwarves’ earshot that Bilbo felt safe, Bilbo finally gave in to his curiosity,

“Gandalf, I was wondering....” he hesitantly began.

“Yes?” said Gandalf.

“Have I offended Thorin?”

“What, by saving his life and killing the orc who had sworn to eradicate his family?” asked Gandalf back.

“I suppose? He seemed to be quite angry at me...”

Gandalf creased his brows and sighed,

“There are many things going on inside Thorin’s mind right now and anger is only one of them, I’m afraid...”

“Oh.”

They continued down the path in thoughtful silence until they met the skin-changer. Gandalf’s scheme - even though it took quite a lot of time, the sun had fallen behind the peaks of the Misty Mountains and the shadows were long in Beorn's garden by the time he was finished - worked like a charm and the company was rewarded with a hearty supper. It was a feast such as they had not had since they raided Bilbo’s pantry at the beginning of their journey.

The entire time they ate, Beorn, his voice deep and rolling, told tales of the wild lands on this side of the mountains, and especially of the dark and dangerous wood that lay stretched far to the North and South. The terrible forest of Mirkwood lay a day's ride before them, barring their passage to the East. The dwarves listened and shook their beards, for they knew that they would soon need to venture into that forest and that, after the mountains, it was the worst of the perils they had to pass before they came to the dragon's stronghold. But that night, they slept with full stomachs and warm hearts, keeping the dark doubts in their minds at bay.

It was late morning when Bilbo awoke. He found that breakfast had been laid out on the veranda, though most of it was already inside the dwarves. Beorn was nowhere in sight, neither was Gandalf nor Thorin. The hobbit ate as quickly as he could before more of the food disappeared inside the dwarves, especially since Bombur was eyeing the table wistfully.

After breakfast, Bilbo decided to get to work on mending his torn clothes. They’d had the opportunity to clean themselves the day before but his waistcoat was still missing all of its buttons. The dwarves were gathered in the main hall and were mending their clothes and armour with whatever tools they had. Bilbo couldn’t help but to be intrigued by the various proficiencies of the dwarves’ attempts, from Ori's expert mending of his unravelled mittens, to Óin's crude reshaping of his ear trumpet with a smooth rock. Bilbo sat beside the younger dwarf and asked him,

“Do you have a spare needle and some threads that I can use? And some metal buttons?”

“I should have it somewhere...” Ori prodded his coat pockets and let out a small ‘aha’ when he found what he was looking for.

“Here you go, Mister Baggins,” Ori handed him a ball of thin yarn and a needle. “As for the buttons... Do they have to be metal? Bofur should have some wooden beads you could use...”

“It is what is proper...” Bilbo hesitated.

“Maybe you could use these,” Nori suddenly piped up. Bilbo turned and saw Nori undoing some of his hair clasps.

“No! No need really!” Bilbo said hurriedly before Nori could undo more clasps and ruin his intricately pinned hair. “Wooden beads are fine! Not that anyone would  _ know _ if a Baggins is improper on this side of Misty Mountains!”

Nori just looked slightly deflated and put the clasps back in his hair. Dwalin clapped the dwarf’s shoulder to cheer him up. Bilbo was at loss; had he offended the dwarf? He went to Bofur to ask for the wooden beads.

“Have I said something wrong?” asked Bilbo while Bofur scrounged in his satchel for them.

“Don’t worry about it, he’s just trying to help,” replied Bofur as he handed him a small pouch filled with many kinds of wooden beads.

“But why?” curiosity trumped over his manners as Bilbo really wanted to know. He wasn’t exactly close to Nori or most of the older ones in the company and, as far as he could tell, hair clasps were important to the dwarves and very often were family heirlooms. It was Balin who answered his question.

“You have done a great deed for us, Master Baggins,” he said solemnly, “You have slain the Pale Orc, the one that scorned Durin’s folk by defiling our king and carving his filthy name on his forehead. Therefore we take off our hoods to you and our services are at your disposal.”

“But Thorin...” began Bilbo.

“Don’t worry about him! Let him tend to his wounded pride, he’ll come around sooner or later,” cut in Dwalin with a rumbling chuckle.

Bilbo didn’t know what else to say, so he sat back on his space and worked in silence. Conversation continued around the fire and a few humorous tales were shared.

“How about you, Mister Baggins? Don’t you have a funny tale or two to share?” asked Dori.

Bilbo pondered for a while then said,

“Well, there’s this funny story about the 13th Baggins that pines day and night after...”

“Now laddie, a few times now I've heard you refer to your family name as if it is a title. Why is that?” Glóin interrupted his story before it even began.

“Because it is?” asked Bilbo confusedly, “It is the most important title in the Shire!”

Bilbo’s exclamation was met by stunned silence. Bilbo looked at their faces and a thought came into his mind,

“Gandalf did not tell you about the Baggins of the Shire, did he?” he asked exasperatedly.

“Well… Tharkûn told us that he had found a hobbit burglar and that’s all we need to know.” said Bombur.

Bilbo rubbed his temple, all this time he thought the dwarves knew! Not that it would make much difference  _ now  _ but that explains quite a few things...

“When you said the  _ most  _ important...” said Fíli.

“ _ How _ important exactly?” Kíli finished his brother’s question.

At this Bilbo heaved a sigh. He stood up to his full height, straightened his coat, and gave the most regal nod he has ever given in his life.

“Bilbo Baggins, 31st Baggins of the Shire, Master of Shire-Moot, Captain of Shire-Muster and Hobbitry -in-arms, Leader of Shirefolk. Though people usually refer to me as  _ Mister Baggins _ ” Bilbo declared his full title.

The circle went silent again and everyone stared at him as if he’d grown a second head, all except for Óin who was still knocking on his ear trumpet.

“So you’re saying that you’re... a King?” Bofur broke the stunned silence.

“Basically yes,” answered Bilbo.

“Well I’ll be!” “By Mahal’s sacred forge!” “Durin’s beard!” “I  _ knew _ there was something off about you!” a round of exclaimed surprise uttered by the dwarves except for Bofur who was just staring at him slack-jawed. After that came the avalanche of questions.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” demanded Dwalin.

“I thought all of you already knew!”

“So Bag End is a royal palace?” asked Nori.

“A royal  _ smial _ , yes. Why else do you think  _ Gandalf _ can fit in it?”

“But you didn’t dress any different than the other Hobbits!” exclaimed Glóin.

“We do actually.” said Bilbo, “Although I suppose it is not too obvious to outsiders... There is a nursery rhyme that describes it.”

Bilbo took a breath and sang out the familiar tune:

“ _ Wooden buttons and woollen balls for everyone to share, _

_ Carved buttons with curved wires for the Thains and their heir, _

_ But only metal buttons that gleam are fit for the Baggins to wear!” _

“Ah, that’s why you were looking for metal buttons earlier!” said Ori. 

Bilbo nodded.

“Is it really fine for you to go with us?” Bofur finally got his voice back.

“It should be, there are the Thains to look after the Shire, and I have been given leave to take my Wandering year. So as long as I am back within a year everything should be fine, though I doubt that I shall go for another adventure after this...” said Bilbo wistfully.

Bilbo had accepted that this was the only adventure that he’d be attending. He was neither happy nor unhappy about that, that’s just the way it was. But he was glad he hadn’t given up at any point on their adventure. Bifur then uttered a series of grunts and gestures, breaking him from his morose thoughts.

“Bifur wants to know whether this means you could give out capital punishment if you wanted,” translated Bombur.

“No!” exclaimed Bilbo in horror, “We don’t  _ have _ capital punishment in the Shire!”

“This means Mister Baggins is actually your title?” asked Balin, “Have I been offering you insult all this time?”

“It’s quite alright, Mister Balin. I know you meant no insult. No one has called me that since my father passed away, it felt strangely nostalgic. And you could always call me Bilbo.” Bilbo smiled fondly at Balin who returned it with an equally fond smile.

“Do you have a crown?” questioned Ori with wide eyes.

“I do. It was on my mantelpiece. Didn’t you see it the night you raided my pantry?” asked Bilbo back.

Kíli finally couldn’t hold his laughter in anymore. He gave out a raucous laugh.

“This is great! I can’t wait to see uncle’s face when he knows that  _ Bilbo _ has a higher rank than him!”

“What do you mean higher rank?” Bilbo raised an eyebrow.

“Oh come on!  _ Baggins of the Shire, Leader of all Shirefolk _ definitely beats King-grumpypants-in-exile!” Fíli lost his composure and joined his brother in laughter.

The others did not join the brothers but instead looking at the looming figure behind them.

“Um...” stammered Fíli.

“He’s right behind us, isn’t he?” said Kíli.

“Mister Baggins, I need to talk to you” said the figure in question while the lads shrunk visibly, ready to bolt, “And would you care to explain what this is all about?”

Bilbo looked up at Thorin to say something and their eyes locked. The sheer intensity of Thorin’s gaze sent shivers down Bilbo’s spine and made him wonder what was behind it. Thin lips shifted and Thorin asked,

“Would you come with me?”

Bilbo found that words had left him entirely and his throat had suddenly gone dry. So he put down his half-finished work, nodded, and followed Thorin out of the hall. Bilbo walked with trepidation and couldn’t help but become anxious.

He was painfully aware that he never had a talk, chat, or even a shared moment with Thorin, and now Thorin wanted to talk to him –  _ alone.  _ Bilbo simply didn’t know what to expect. He glanced at Thorin who was looking straight forward, face set in grim lines and betraying nothing.

They reached the flower garden just outside the veranda. The sun was high and bright in the sky, illuminating the flowers with warm light. In the center lay a great oak-trunk with many lopped-off branches stacked beside it. Thorin and Bilbo took their seats on the log.

Silence stretched between them. There was tightness in the dead air until finally Thorin broke it with quiet but serious words.

“I should apologize for my nephews; one shouldn’t jest about being a king so lightly.”

Bilbo nodded in agreement.

“Especially to the common folk. Being a royalty is not as grand or heroic as one might think, Mister Baggins,” continued Thorin.

Bilbo almost said something in agreement before he processed Thorin’s words entirely _.  _ When he did, Bilbo couldn’t believe his ears.  _ Thorin thinks everything was a joke? _

“How much did you hear?” asked Bilbo

“Just my nephews’ jesting, I’m afraid,” answered Thorin.

Bilbo rolled his eyes in exasperation. He was not sure he  _ wanted _ to tell Thorin now, he’d just had a similar conversation and he was not eager to repeat it anytime soon. So Bilbo just said,

“Don’t be too harsh on them, they’re still young.”

At that Thorin heaved a sigh, his face creased with worry and something else Bilbo could not put his finger on.

“You’re right, they’re still young. I brought them on this journey without them knowing the weight of responsibility that would befell them should we succeed,” said Thorin.

There was a brief silence, like an indrawn breath. Bilbo pondered whether Thorin realized that he had bared his feelings toward his nephews to him. But then Thorin continued,

“Uneasy is the head that wears a crown, Mister Baggins. I hope Fíli has many happy years before he has to bear it,” he paused and looked at Bilbo, “and I hope none of my companions will know the burden.”

There was no bite to his words, just weariness of the weight on his shoulder. Thorin sounded so lonely, the sky in his eyes darkened, and Bilbo felt a tug inside him.

“I do know,” stated Bilbo.

Bilbo was pleased to see the shadow in Thorin’s eyes dissipated in a blink, replaced by surprise and puzzlement.

“You see,” continued Bilbo when it looked like Thorin wasn’t going to say anything, “Fíli and Kíli were not  _ entirely _ jesting.”

Bilbo watched as the cogs turned inside Thorin’s head before the pieces finally clicked in place. 

Bilbo felt a smile tug on his lips. ‘Kíli was right, it is rather amusing’ _. _

“You really are...” Thorin tapered off, losing his voice midway through the sentence.

“Baggins of the Shire, Leader of All Hobbitfolk. Yes,” finished Bilbo, amusement slightly colouring his voice.

“You left your... to help us...”

Thorin couldn’t seem to make full sentences and Bilbo began to worry. He _had not_ just broken the dwarven king, right? But even a polite hobbit like Bilbo couldn’t resist making one last jab,

“Now you can’t say that all races have abandoned your people.”

Thorin jerked as if he had been whipped, opening his mouth a few times but no sound emerged. Then he took a deep breath and let out a breathy chuckle. Bilbo felt a blush start to form on his cheeks.

“I might not be a great King or all the sorts but it still is not a laughing matter!” huffed Bilbo, trying to hide his mortification.

“I’m sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you, Mister Baggins. It’s just this whole thing is so...”

“Ludicrous?” supplied Bilbo.

“Not that. Merely... unexpected,” said Thorin with half a smile. Bilbo raised his eyebrow.

“Not that I’m saying you do not look like a King,” said Thorin, “In hindsight, it makes a lot of sense actually. I should have realized it sooner.”

Bilbo shrugged, “Not that anyone else noticed,” he returned.

Thorin hummed in agreement and a companionable silence befell them.

“Is that all, Mister Oakenshield?” asked Bilbo after a while.

“No, Mister Baggins,” answered Thorin, “I wanted to talk to you about something else entirely before we got... sidetracked.”

“Do you still want to?”

“I do,” said Thorin, “I was just trying to find the words... it’s about  _ Azog _ .” Thorin spat out the orc’s name like a poison. Bilbo cringed; Thorin  _ was _ angry about the whole mes _ s  _ after all.

“I’m sorry,” said Bilbo.

“What on middle earth are you sorry for?” asked Thorin, astounded.

“For killing the pale orc? I thought you were angry that I killed your sworn foe...”

“Aye, I was angry. But not for the reasons that you think.”

Bilbo became relieved but at the same time he became curious, and he wanted to  _ know. _ So he kept silent, hoping Thorin would continue. And continue Thorin did,

“I was angry because I made a foolish decision to charge on Azog when I knew I could not win. I was angry because I failed and  _ you _ had to save me.”

“That I did, didn’t I?” said Bilbo, feeling a little accomplished.

“What were you thinking, really? You nearly got yourself killed...”

“I wasn’t,” retorted Bilbo, secretly admitting that he also wasn’t thinking when he jumped at the orc _. _

“When you joined this journey, I thought you would be nothing but a burden, and that you would not survive in the wild,” said Thorin with a snort.

“You’ve told me that much,” said Bilbo, irritated. 

Thorin just admitted that Bilbo saved his life and now he insulted him. Bilbo  _ really _ did not understand this dwarf.

“And I’ve never been so wrong in my entire life.”

_ Oh. _

“Mister Baggins, you have shown us great loyalty. You risked your life to save mine and you have slain the enemy that has haunted the line of Durin. Therefore, I offer you my service such as it is, in repayment of this debt. You will have our axes and swords, and your people will be welcomed in the home of every Durin’s folk,” declared Thorin.

Bilbo wanted to refuse, for Thorin had saved his life back twice over. But Bilbo had listened to enough dwarven tales to know that to refuse such a declaration would mean an insult to the dwarves. So Bilbo had no other choice than to answer,

“I accept your service Thorin, son of Thráin, and these conditions I ask of you.” 

Thorin nodded and looked Bilbo straight in his eyes, waiting for him to continue.

“First, call me  _ Bilbo. _ Because that's what my friends call me,” Bilbo paused. “We can be friends, right?”

“Friends...” Thorin drawled as if testing the weight of the word on his tongue, “Aye we can be that.”

“Second, by offering you axes and swords it means you will protect me?” asked Bilbo.

Thorin nodded solemnly.

“You still have to sneak past the dragon as agreed but we will protect you, throughout the journey and after,” said he.

“Right,” said Bilbo, “But you see, protecting is much easier if the one protected knows how to protect himself...”

“True. And your point is?”

“I would like it if one of you teaches me how to fight properly,”

Thorin didn’t answer, he just stared at him with an unreadable expression. Bilbo felt a flush start to creep in.

“It’s not that Fíli and Kíli were bad teachers. It’s just that half of the time they were jesting and the other half they were arguing which one of them was correct. And Bifur was lovely but I couldn’t understand him and he preferred the spear...”

‘Oh dear I’m babbling,’ thought Bilbo. Bilbo was mortified. He hadn’t babbled since he was in his tweens. Babbling wasn’t a proper behavior for a Baggins, or so his father had said.

“Fine, I will teach you,” said Thorin.

“What?”

Bilbo wasn’t sure he heard Thorin correctly. Did the dwarf just say that  _ he _ would teach Bilbo? Bilbo thought he would, at best, ask Dwalin or Glóin to teach him and refuse flatly at worst, saying something like ‘We don’t have the time’ or worse.

“I said I will teach you, Mis-  _ Bilbo,” _ Thorin repeated, “In fact we can start now if you wish.”

“No, not now,” said Bilbo, “At least wait until lunch is over, I need a full meal after this before I can do anything...”

It had been such a whirlwind of a day and it was not even midday yet. Bilbo would need a hearty lunch before he could function again. A few cups of tea would not be amiss either.

“After lunch, then,” said Thorin curtly as he rose from his seat.

Bilbo gave him a small nod. Thorin looked at him for a moment as if he was pondering something.

“And Bilbo?” he added.

“Yes?”

“I’ve seen many great Kings and you are no less than any of them. I’m sorry that I doubted you.”

And Thorin smiled at him. Not the half smile or the sneer that Bilbo was used to seeing. Thorin’s eyes narrowed, soft crinkles forming around them, his lips stretched as their corner tugged upwards showing dimples on his cheeks, making him look a decade younger. Bilbo silently thanked Yavanna that he was sitting, he felt his knees go weak as his heart skipped a beat.

“It’s fine,” squeaked Bilbo.

Thorin gave him a small nod and turned to go, leaving Bilbo staring at his back, mouth agape, feeling very dishevelled and not entirely proper.


	9. Chapter 8 – Shakarel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who came for the Bagginshield, here it is! Two doofus in love.

Lunch was a merry affair and the company dug in with their usual fervour. They were served by Beorn’s queer ponies and dogs that could stand on their hind legs and carry things with their forelegs, but Beorn himself was nowhere in sight and neither was Gandalf.

For the first time in his life, Bilbo found that he did not have much of an appetite. He absent-mindedly took a bowl of vegetable stew and a cup of tea with honey and cream and started to eat, barely noticing what he was eating. He was lost in his thoughts when Ori shyly came to him and asked,

“Um... Mister Baggins... Are you sure you want to eat that?” as he pointed at his bowl.

Bilbo looked down to his bowl, surprised at what he saw there. He was sure that the stew was not brown and  _ creamy _ when he took it. He lifted his cup of tea to have a sip only to find it was already empty. Bilbo sighed, he must have taken up his cup earlier but instead of taking a gulp he had poured it into his stew. He stared at it for a moment, then pushed his bowl away; he was not hungry anymore anyway.

“Yeah I thought so too...” said Ori.

Bilbo murmured his thanks to Ori and left the table. He went to his little straw mattress and took his sword from beside it. He pondered for a while, feeling the blade’s weight in his hands. Well he did  _ ask  _ for this and he would see it through. So he tightened his grip on the sword and went to the garden.

Bilbo found the garden unoccupied and quiet but for the odd rustle of leaves and the chirps of birds. The summer sun was high in the sky, illuminating the flowers with its bright rays. Bilbo noticed how the garden reminded him of bright summer at Hobbiton but at the same time very different as he had never seen half of these flowers before. 

Bilbo unsheathed his sword. He let the blade glimmer in sunlight as aggravating thoughts came rushing back in his mind.

_ “I’ve seen many great Kings and you are no less than any of them.” _

Bilbo gave his sword an experimental swing. He wondered what Thorin had meant by that. 

‘Does it mean that Thorin acknowledged me as a King? Or Thorin sees me as a great King?’ 

In any way, it seemed that Thorin held him in much higher regard now than he had at the beginning of their journey.

_ “I’m sorry that I doubted you.” _

Bilbo shifted his feet into a perpendicular position, remembering Fíli’s instruction, and held his sword out slightly above his navel with the tip pointed upwards. Bilbo thrust the sword to the air with force. 

‘Have I earned Thorin’s trust? Is it because of what I’ve done? Or just because now Thorin knows that I am the leader of my people?’

Bilbo took a passing step and brought his sword down, angled towards the ground and slightly back to the side of his rear foot. He took another step and sliced the air in front of him while question after question plagued his mind with no answers in sight. He felt unsure and he did not like it, mostly because he was not sure what he felt unsure about.

Bilbo raised his sword beside his ear with the point dipping forward in a steep angle. He thrust down as if he was stabbing his conflicted feelings. __

And then there was that _ smile.  _ The smile that had been replaying inside Bilbo’s mind for a couple of hours now, making him more and more flustered.

Bilbo grunted in frustration and swung his sword in a one swift movement as he turned around with a pivoting step. His sword clashed with something and there stood Thorin Oakenshield in all his majestic glory, stopping his small blade with Orcist’s flat.

Bilbo gasped and almost dropped his sword in surprise, his mind going  _ thankfully _ silent. Thorin wore his usual stern expression, his perfect stance standing in sharp contrast to Bilbo’s awkward one.

“I see my nephews have taught you some of the basics,” remarked Thorin.

Bilbo nodded and lowered his sword, prompting Thorin to do the same.

“Though there is still much room for improvement,” continued Thorin.

Bilbo nodded again because it was a fact that he was painfully aware of and also the reason he asked for someone to teach him properly.

“Before we start, you should be aware that I will be harsh and strict. Do you still wish to proceed?” said Thorin as he sheathed his sword.

“Yes,” Bilbo breathed out in relief.

Thorin quirked an eyebrow and shot him a questioning look but Bilbo didn’t care. He had dreaded the prolonged interactions that undoubtedly would come with the training sessions. Bilbo would not know what to do if Thorin suddenly became nice, or warm, or even worse,  _ gentle. _

‘Harsh and strict is good,’ thought Bilbo as he braced himself mentally, ‘I can work with harsh and strict.’

“Fine,” said Thorin, “Let’s get started.”

Thorin instructed him to take the beginning stance and moved through the basic steps and their variations. Thorin would demonstrate the movement first and Bilbo would try to copy it with varying degrees of success. Then Thorin would correct his movement, sometimes tapping Bilbo’s legs into the correct position and have Bilbo repeat it until Thorin deemed it satisfactory. All while Bilbo held his sword in the short guard.

They continued like that until the sun went down and Bilbo was flushed and drenched with sweat. Thorin, who did not look any worse for wear, called it a day after Bilbo managed to make a perfect turning step. Bilbo sheathed his sword and flopped down to sit on the grass, resting his aching legs.

Bilbo found the whole exercise relaxing somehow. He rubbed at a spot on his calf where Thorin had tapped him several times. The steps needed to be done with precision and concentration leaving no room for wandering thoughts and Thorin was neither as strict nor as harsh as Bilbo expected. Bilbo was raised under a strict Baggins’ hand and a harsh Took’s hand, after all.

“Did I hit you too hard?” asked Thorin as he sat down beside Bilbo.

“No,” Bilbo stopped his hand, “I’m fine.”

Thorin gave him a slight nod and eyed his sword thoughtfully.

“Have you considered a name for your sword?” he asked.

“I think I might name it  _ Maegnas,  _ the sharp point,” answered Bilbo

“Why an Elven name?”

“It’s an Elven blade, it seemed fitting,” said Bilbo

“But it has slain a Dwarven foe,” Thorin retorted.

“Are you proposing a Dwarven name for my blade?” asked Bilbo.

“I might,” Thorin shrugged.

“Then you have to help me with it,” said Bilbo, “I know near to nothing about your language, Mister Dwarf.”

Bilbo was half jesting of course. He knew that Khuzdul was a secret that the dwarves held close. Almost no one out of their race knew the language beside the cries heard in battlefields.

“The sharp point...” Thorin pondered, “We have a good word for that in Khuzdul,  _ Shakarel,  _ It means the sharpest or the sting.”

Bilbo looked up to Thorin in surprise. Thorin looked collected, very much unlike someone who just shared a word of their closest guarded secret with someone who is barely more than a  _ stranger. _

“I’ll consider it...” said Bilbo.

Thorin nodded, “We should head back. It’s almost time for supper.”

With that Thorin stood and walked back to the Hall. Bilbo stared at his back for a moment before following suit.

Bilbo changed his clothes and cleaned himself before he joined the others for supper. When he arrived he saw that Gandalf was there, finishing a loaf of bread and taking a second with masses of honey, butter, and clotted cream. The dwarves were sitting impatiently as if willing the Wizard to eat faster.

Bilbo took a loaf of bread for himself and sat down to eat. Gandalf finally finished his mead and pulled out his pipe. He lit it and started to smoke, sending smoke-rings dodging round the pillars of the hall, changing them into all sorts of different shapes and colours, and setting them at last chasing one another out the hole in the roof.

“I went to Roshgobel to visit my kinsman, Radagast the Brown,” said Gandalf at last, “The issue he brought up earlier when we met him turned out to be more dire than I expected.”

Gandalf took a deep whiff on his pipe and blew out another smoke ring,

“So I have to part with you tomorrow to attend the issue with him.”

The dwarves were very dismayed at this news, they had hoped Gandalf was going to come all the way and would always be there to help them out of difficulties.

"I always meant to see you all safe over the mountains," said the wizard, "and now by good management and good luck I have done it. Indeed we are now a good deal further east than I ever meant to come with you for, after all, this is not my adventure.”

The dwarves groaned in despair but they did not try to change the wizard’s mind. They knew wizards had important matters to attend from time to time and cared not for gold or silver or jewels. After the others settled down, Thorin asked,

“What about the whereabouts of our host?”

"There are many bear-tracks outside," answered Gandalf, "There must have been a regular bears' meeting outside here last night. I realized quickly that Beorn could not have made them all: there are far too many of them, and they are of various sizes too.”

“The footprints continued to the west over the river, to the Mountains. I think they went to the direction of the pine-woods on the east side of the Misty Mountains, where we had our pleasant little party with the Defiler the night before last,” concluded Gandalf.

“He went orc hunting?” asked Glóin in disbelief.

“He must be!” said Dwalin, “You said he hated orcs and wargs!” he added to Gandalf.

“So I did,” said Gandalf.

“What if he was defeated? The footprints will lead the orcs and wargs here!” exclaimed Bofur.

“We shall all be caught and killed!” said Dori.

“He is much older and more powerful than you know,” Gandalf assured them, “All of you should rest. It is likely that you too will ride out tomorrow.”

Thorin expressed his approval and off the dwarves went to bed. Bilbo also went to bed, as there seemed nothing else he could do. He fell asleep as a soft music from a harp echoed inside the hall. Next morning they were all woken by Beorn himself.

"So here you all are still!" he exclaimed with a rumbling laugh.

He picked up Bilbo and poked his (now mended) waistcoat most disrespectfully. Bilbo swore he heard a growl from one of the dwarves, and though he couldn’t see who it was it sounded a lot like Thorin.

"Little bunny is getting nice and fat again on bread and honey," chuckled Beorn, "Come and have some more!"

Beorn put Bilbo down when they reached the dining table and they all went to breakfast with him. They did not have to wonder long where he had been or why he was so nice to them, for he told them himself. 

He had been over the river and right back up into the mountains. From the burned cliff side he had found out that part of their story was true. Then he caught a warg and an orc wandering in the woods, still hunting for the dwarves, and they were fiercely angry because of the death of the Great Goblin and the Pale Orc.

"It was a good story, that of yours. But I like it still better now I am sure it is true!” said Beorn with great amusement, “I shall think more kindly of dwarves after this! And hobbits, too!” 

Beorn was so pleased that he provided them with a pony for each of them, a horse for Gandalf, food that would last for weeks with care, and most importantly many sound advice about the dangers of Mirkwood and the path they should take. 

“Killed the Great Goblin, killed the Pale Orc!" he chuckled fiercely to himself from time to time.

The company thanked him and they rode out after midday. It was a day's ride from there to the edge of Mirkwood. The next day when they arrived at the tree line, they dismounted, unpacked the ponies, and distributed the packages as fairly as possible. They sent the ponies back as Beorn asked. The package was heavy on Bilbo’s back but he kept his mouth shut for he knew he was given a lighter load due to his small stature.

Gandalf said goodbye and trotted off along the edge of the forest. The company refilled their water skeins at a clear spring they found near the forest gate. They each shouldered the heavy pack and the water-skin which was their share and marched into the shadows of Mirkwood with Gandalf’s parting words firm in their minds:

_ “Do not leave the path!” _


	10. Chapter 9 - In the Shadows of Mirkwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a lot of the previous version and was originally beta-ed by [Livingmeatloaf](http://livingmeatloaf.tumblr.com/).

They walked in single file. The path itself was narrow and wound in and out among the trunks. Soon the light at the gate was just a little bright spot far behind, and the quiet was so deep that their feet seemed to thump along while all the trees leaned over them and listened. Occasionally, a slender beam of sun that had the luck to slip in through some opening in the leaves far above, and still more luck in not being caught in the tangled boughs and matted twigs beneath, stabbed down thin and bright before them. But this was seldom, and it soon ceased altogether.

The nastiest things they saw were the cobwebs, dark dense cobwebs with threads extraordinarily thick, often stretched from tree to tree, or tangled in the lower branches on either side of them. There were none stretched across the path, but whether because some magic kept it clear or for what other reason they could not guess.

It was not long before they grew to hate the forest as heartily as they had hated the tunnels of the goblins, and it seemed to offer even less hope of any ending. The nights were the worst. It then became pitch-dark, so black that you really could see nothing. The only thing they could see were gleaming eyes in the darkness around them.

To Bilbo’s growing anxiety, they did not have the time or chance to continue with his sword training, it was too dark at night and they had to get as far as possible on the track at day. So he tread along with the others in darkness with a sword that he didn’t quite know how to use, feeling not safe at all.

But from time to time, Thorin would have him march right behind him. Bilbo could feel warmth radiating from his fur covered back, reminding him of home and  _ safety. _ This made Bilbo long for his home but at the same time made him long to walk nearer to Thorin. As he felt that both were impossible, Bilbo silently kept walking, savoring whatever warmth he could get from a safe distance.

Days followed days, and still the forest seemed just the same. The food began to get low even though they were extremely careful with their provisions. Kíli managed to shoot a squirrel down, but when they cooked it, it tasted horrible and gave them all a bellyache. They were thirsty too, for they did not have much water, and in all the time they had seen neither spring nor stream.

This was their state when one day they found their path blocked by running water. It flowed fast and strong but not very wide, cutting right across the path. The thin river was black and a foul feeling radiated from it. Beorn had warned them not to touch any water that they might encounter inside the forest and they started to see why. But they also had no means to cross the water without coming into contact with the stream.

Bilbo stared at the blurred outline of the far bank wishfully as some of the others moaned in despair. He traced the banks with his eyes when he noticed there was an odd curve to one part of the silhouette. Bilbo narrowed his eyes, the curve looked a lot like the mast of a small boat.

“There’s a boat!” Bilbo pointed out into the gloom, “There’s a small boat on the far bank!”

The dwarves hurriedly gathered on the bank near him and glared at the spot Bilbo was pointing to. Kíli, with his sharp eyes, was the first one who saw it.

“There is a boat indeed!” he shouted gleefully.

Some of the others saw it as well and the others that did not trusted the eyes of the ones that did. So, they fastened a large iron hook to their longest rope and had Fíli threw it to the boat. The boat was hooked after two tries and they were all soon on the far bank safe across the enchanted stream.

Thorin looked most relieved, as all of them had crossed safely without any incident. He praised Fíli for his good throw, and also Kíli, Óin, and Glóin for pulling each load of dwarves across the stream. Lastly he turned to Bilbo.

“You have sharp eyes Bilbo, thank you for spotting the boat!” said he as he patted him on the back.

Bilbo was strangely pleased by the comment, though he felt like a fauntling that was being praised for completing his first Lithe dance. But it made his heart lighten and the forest didn’t seem so dark anymore. So they marched again with higher spirits, lighter packs and emptier stomachs meaning they had to guard their provisions even more carefully.

About four days after the enchanted stream, they came to an area of the forest where most of the trees were beeches. They were at first inclined to be cheered by the change, for here the shadows were not so deep. Yet the light only showed them endless lines of straight grey trunks like the pillars of some huge twilight hall. Two days later, they found their path going downwards and before long they were in a valley filled almost entirely with a mighty growth of oaks and they grew weary again.

That night they ate their very last scraps and crumbs of food, so next morning when they woke the first thing they noticed was that they were still gnawingly hungry. At that moment, Balin saw a twinkle of light in the forest. They saw the light was in front of them and to the left of the path, so they headed closer to it. When at last they had drawn level with it, it seemed plain that torches and fires were burning under the trees a good way off their track.

There were many people there, elvish-looking folk, all dressed in green and brown and sitting in a great circle upon sawn sections of felled trees. There was a fire in their midst and there were torches fastened to some of the trees around. They were eating and drinking and laughing merrily. The smell of roasted meat was very enchanting and they were very hungry.

Most of the dwarves begged Thorin to let them ask for food from the elves, especially Bombur who had not felt full since they left Beorn’s house and Dori who was worried sick about his littlest brother Ori. Bilbo understood Thorin’s hesitation, for those were the very same elves that turned their back to them decades ago. 

Then he saw Thorin look at his nephews and Bilbo followed Thorin’s line of sight. Fíli and Kíli were silent even though they were obviously hungry. Throughout their journey, Bilbo had learned that young dwarves needed more sustenance than the older ones. But they did not join the pleading. To resist the temptation Kíli held his brother’s arm so tightly that his knuckles had gone white and Fíli definitely would sport an impressive bruise after this.

Thorin sighed in defeat.

“Fine, we’ll go and ask whether they are willing to share their food.”

So they walked silently so they would not spook the elves, making their way toward the circle and off the path. In their hunger, they had forgotten Gandalf’s advice to not leave the path. When they almost reached the edge of the circle, Thorin halted them.

“We can’t go all rushing forward. We should send someone to try to talk to them first.”

The company nodded and murmured their agreement.

“Someone who didn’t look threatening would be best,” said Nori while eyeing Dwalin.

Dwalin grunted in irritation but acknowledged Nori’s point.

“I suggest we send Bilbo,” recommended Balin.

Thorin hesitated but Bilbo felt a need inside him to be useful again for the company.

“I don’t mind,” said Bilbo.

Thorin gave him a searching look; Bilbo did not know whether he found what he was searching for but finally he said,

“If you say so,” and he moved aside so Bilbo could proceed toward the circle.

Bilbo walked until he reached the very edge of the circle and took a deep breath, hesitation suddenly overcoming him. But then he felt a presence behind him.

“I hope they wouldn’t do anything nasty to you,” said Bofur as he pushed Bilbo into the circle.

Bilbo stumbled forward into the full blaze of the fire and torches. But before he could say anything, out went all the lights again bringing sudden and complete darkness. He lost consciousness as if an enchantment had been put upon him. 

When he came into consciousness, he felt something touch him. Something like a strong sticky string was against his left hand, and when he tried to move he found that his legs were already wrapped in the same stuff, so that when he got up he fell over. He instinctively drew his sword, then the great spider, who had been busy tying him up while he dozed, came from behind him and came at him. But Bilbo was ready, he stabbed one of its legs and while the spider retreated back in surprise, Bilbo cut the web that tangled him.

“What are you? Why do you have a sting?” the spider hissed and clacked, sending chills down Bilbo’s spine as it came at him again.

Bilbo struck it with his sword right in the eyes. Then it went mad and leaped and danced and flung out its legs in horrible jerks, until he killed it with another stroke. Bilbo was panting heavily and poked the dead spider with his sword to make sure it was really dead. He looked at his sword which was covered in black viscous liquid,

“I shall name you Sting after all,” murmured Bilbo, remembering his conversation with Thorin back at Beorn’s house.

He wiped his sword on the grass and sheathed it. He looked around but he couldn’t find any other member of the company nor any other spiders. Just ahead of him, Bilbo noticed a place of dense black shadow ahead of him, dark even for that forest, like a patch of midnight that had never been cleared away. As he drew nearer, he saw that it was made by many spider-webs one behind and over and tangled with another.

He put on his ring, just in case, though he disliked the odd feeling that he got when he was wearing it. Creeping in closer, as silently as possible, he saw a great many spiders huge and horrible sitting in the branches above him. Standing behind a tree, he watched and listened to a group of them for some time.

One of the fat spiders ran along a rope until it came to a dozen bundles hanging in a row from a high branch. Bilbo was horrified, now that he noticed them for the first time dangling in the shadows, to see a dwarven feet sticking out of the bottoms of some of the bundles, or here and there the tip of a nose, or a bit of beard. In the silence and stillness of the wood he realised that they had captured the dwarves.

The spiders looked like they were about to eat the dwarves. Bilbo noticed there were many stones lying in what appeared to be a now dry little watercourse. As he mentioned in Bag End in the beginning of the journey, he was very good with his sling. Bilbo remembered the rude songs that had aggravated the dwarves when they entered Rivendell and a plan formed inside his mind.

He gathered as many sharp stones as possible and equipped with two of his most trusty weapons, his sling and his words he was ready to attack. He saw a spider crawling towards the biggest and roundest bundle. 

‘Must be Bombur,’ Bilbo thought. 

He spun his sling and with a flick of his wrist he launched the sharp stone, smacking the spider right on the head, causing instant death. The next stone went whizzing through a big web, snapping its cords, and taking off the spider sitting in the middle of it, another dead. After that there was a deal of commotion in the Spider-colony, that was when Bilbo dashed off to another tree and sang the most insulting song he could muster at the heat of the moment.

_ “Lazy Lob and crazy Cob  _

_ are weaving webs to wind me.  _

_ I am far more sweet than other meat,  _

_ but still they cannot find me!” _

The spiders were enraged and followed him into the forest while Bilbo dashed between trees until he had gone as far as he dared. Then he quickly stole back to release the dwarves from their tangled mess. He was halfway done when the spiders came back and he had to fend them off while the released dwarves opened the cocoons containing the other dwarves. They worked a tad slow for there was still spider poison in their systems.

As soon as all of them were released, they found their weapons at the base of a nearby tree and fought the spiders. But they couldn’t do much, for it was dark and they were weak with hunger and poison and the spiders were many. Already, the giant arachnids were weaving their webs all around the small clearing, spanning the spaces between trees to thwart their escape. In the end, Bilbo could think of no plan except to let the dwarves in on the secret of his ring.

“I am going to disappear and lure them away,” explained Bilbo, “You must keep together and make in the opposite direction, towards the place where we last saw the elf-fires."

The company was curious about how Bilbo would disappear, but the situation was dire and they all agreed with his plan, even more so after they saw him slip on his ring and disappear right in front of them. And off Bilbo went, singing rude songs and leading the spiders away while the dwarves scurried off to relative safety.

_ “Here am I, naughty little fly;  _

_ you are fat and lazy.  _

_ You cannot trap me, though you try,  _

_ in your cobwebs crazy. ” _

When Bilbo snuck back to where the elf-fires were, the dwarves were already there. There must have been some remaining trace of elf-magic on the ground for the spiders dared not draw near. When they saw Bilbo, the dwarves showered him with questions about the whole disappearing business. So Bilbo told them everything, from when he fell to the creature Gollum's cave, the riddles game and how he got the ring as a  _ present _ for winning it, and lastly until he snuck out and found them again.

One by one, the dwarves slowly drifted off to slumber as Bilbo told his story, as they were still weak because of the spider’s poison. When all of them had fallen asleep, Bilbo kept watch and counted the dwarves.

“Fíli and Kíli,” he murmured to the two figures huddled together.

“Balin and Dwalin, that makes four,” he sighed to the bald head that rested on white beard.

“Dori, Nori, and Ori, that’s seven,” he muttered to the three figures in knitwear.

“Óin and Glóin,” he mumbled to the red and white hair that clashed as they slept while sitting back to back.

“Bofur, Bombur, and Bifur, that’s twelve!” said he at last to the two figures curling around a much rounder one, feeling satisfied that everybody was here.

Then realization dawned on him. He shook Dwalin awake and demanded,

“Where is Thorin?!”

The dwarves woke up groggily, roused by the ruckus Bilbo made, but they quickly became alert when they realized their leader was missing. After a round of questions, it became clear that no one had seen their leader after he jumped into the middle of the second elf-fires. Bilbo felt an overwhelming sense of dread creep into his mind, for this meant that either Thorin was captured by the elves or he was eaten by the spiders.

While the company argued amongst themselves whether or not they should head back to the spider’s nest and try to find Thorin there, a sudden flash of light momentarily blinded them as many torches appeared around them, like hundreds of red stars. Out from the trees leapt Wood-elves with their bows drawn and spears ready to thrust, calling the dwarves to halt. All of the Company members were easily captured for they couldn’t put up a decent fight even if they wanted to. All except for Bilbo, who had slipped on his ring without thinking and was pushed aside by one of the dwarves.

Bilbo was surprised and bewildered but silently followed the elves and the rest of the bound and blindfolded dwarves, hoping that Thorin was with the elves as well and not in the spiders’ stomachs. He followed them through the forest, to the bridge, and past the gate of the king. That brought them to a small and well built passage, lit with torches all along the sides. Bilbo took a deep breath, enjoying the much cleaner air around him.

They were brought before the Elvenking, and though he looked grimly at them, he told his men to unbind them, for they were ragged and weary and there was no escape through his enchanted doors for those who were brought inside. King Thranduil questioned them long and searchingly about their doings but the dwarves were as tight lipped as ever. They were surly and angry and they had not forgotten that the Elvenking had abandoned them, they may never forgive.

Bilbo briefly entertained the idea of making himself known and negotiated with the Elvenking. However he did not have a leg to stand on this side of the Misty Mountains. He doubted Thranduil would care for the words from the leader of the hobbits, seeing how poorly he treated the dwarves that used to be his neighbour. He also did not know the elves enough to find the right way to push for his desired outcome. The best plan for now is to remain invisible and to  _ observe _ .

Bilbo felt very amused throughout the questioning, for it seemed that  _ King _ Thranduil was not very skilled at questioning people. The dwarves were tired and  _ starving, _ questioning them should have been as easy as making a seed-cake. Bilbo almost let out a chuckle when the Elvenking sent them away in frustration and told the guards to put them in separate cells and to be given meagre food and drink until they were willing to talk.

The invisible hobbit followed the guards carefully and silently as they placed each dwarf in their cell. The halls were dimly lit so Bilbo did not worry so much about the shadow he might cast. Bilbo took note of all their twelve cells in different places of the palace. Clearly this place was not built to house so many prisoners in separate places, as some of the cells were not cells at all. 

Glóin was locked in an old broom cupboard. Bilbo knew this for he saw the elves clearing the room of some ancient looking cleaning supplies before they locked Glóin inside. Bifur was locked in a small spear closet near the kitchen and poor Ori was put in some sort of an attic. After he knew where all twelve of them were being kept, Bilbo snuck back to Balin’s cell.

“Mister Balin,” Bilbo whispered as he took off his ring after making sure no one else was there.

“Bilbo!” said Balin, “Good to see you alive and well!”

“What do we do now?” asked Bilbo urgently.

“I’m afraid I haven’t the slightest clue,” said Balin, “Though I was hoping we would know what happened to Thorin, the Elvenking didn’t mention him earlier.”

“Well I could sneak around and try to find out...” suggested Bilbo.

“You understand Elvish?” asked Balin.

“Conversational Sindarin, yes. The elves here have a different accent than Imladris elves but I still understand what they say, more or less,” Bilbo explained.

Balin looked fairly impressed,

“If that is so then please do, Bilbo,” he said.

“Do you have any message to the others?”

“Just tell them not to lose heart.”

Bilbo nodded then his stomach growled, and he realized that he was very hungry. Balin chuckled at the sound while Bilbo felt a little embarrassed.

“Here laddie, you can share with me,” said Balin offering his untouched plate.

It was not much, but it was more than what they had eaten on the few last days before their supplies ran out. But Bilbo knew that Balin must also be very hungry and he didn’t have the heart to eat his share,

“It’s alright, Mister Balin, I’ll just sneak to the kitchen,” said Bilbo even though he was not sure he could manage to poach anything from the elves.

“If you say so,” said Balin, “Stay safe,Bilbo.”

Bilbo put on his ring and left Balin’s cell. He wandered for a while before he realized that he had no idea where the kitchen was. But Bilbo Baggins was quite a lucky hobbit for an elf holding a jug and a plate passed him. Bilbo followed him silently and the elf did lead him to the kitchen. There was another elf, who seemed to be the cook, inside the large room. Bilbo snuck into the pantry and took a loaf of bread as he listened in to their conversation.

“ _ Han mauya annoes nin Naugrim,” _ said the elf with the jug.

Bilbo recognized some of the words,  _ annoes  _ \- give food and  _ Naugrim _ which was one of the unpleasant names given for dwarves. It was likely that this elf was the one that responsible for feeding the dwarves.

_ “Ma pen?” _ asked the cook.

_ “I min gador-dad,”  _ answered the other.

_ ‘Gador-dad,  _ prison-below, a dungeon?’ Bilbo perked at the mention. 

None of the others were locked in a dungeon, it could very well be Thorin that the elves were talking about. Bilbo quickly finished his bread, he wasn’t full yet but there might not be another chance, and followed the elf whose jug was now full of water and plate was filled with bread and some meat.

He walked silently behind as the elf went down two flights of stairs, the halls becoming darker and darker as they went deeper down, into the eerily silence of the underground chambers. Finally they reached a heavy oak door. Bilbo stayed back as the elf unlocked the door, went in, and replaced the jug and plate in his hands with empty ones. Throughout the process, the prisoner inside didn’t say anything and Bilbo couldn’t see who was inside for he dared not get too near; thus, Bilbo couldn’t be sure who was inside.

But the elf had clearly said a dwarf, so who else could it be? Bilbo decided to risk it and went to the door after the elf left and the echoes of his steps were no longer heard.

“Thorin! Is that you?” Bilbo whispered to the keyhole.

There was no answer.

“Thorin?” Bilbo tried again.

“My ears hadn’t deceived me,” came the answer from inside, “Is that really you, Bilbo?”

Bilbo felt his knees go weak with relief for he could not mistake who that voice belonged to.

“Yes! I’m so glad that you are here!” cried Bilbo, “We thought you were eaten by the spiders!”

“Spiders? What spiders?” asked Thorin, for he was captured after he fell asleep under the elven enchantment when he stepped in the second elf-fires - much like Bilbo, other than Bilbo was captured by a spider and not the elves - and thus knew nothing of the giant spiders.

So Bilbo sat down, leaned his back on the door, and told Thorin about how they were captured by giant spiders, how they escaped but only to be captured again by the elves. As Bilbo recounted the story, he became more and more aware of Thorin’s presence behind the door, and his heart started to beat faster. When he finished his story Thorin said,

“You saved them, Bilbo. Thank you.”

His voice was soft like a low rumble of the wind, coloured with relief and endearment. Bilbo felt his face flush and his heart was so loud he could hear it in his ears.

“Y-you’re welcome,” said Bilbo, willing himself to calm down.

Silence reigned upon them, stretched on like the woods, and Bilbo felt his heart was impossibly loud.

“Is there any message you want to send to the others?” asked Bilbo when he couldn’t bear the awkward silence anymore.

Thorin hummed in answer and then said,

“Please tell them that I am safe and not to reveal anything about our journey.”

“Understood,” said Bilbo.

“And also that we need to find a way to escape from here,” added Thorin.

“Is there anything else?” asked Bilbo as he stood up and got ready to leave.

“Just one more thing,” said Thorin, “Will you come back?”

Bilbo froze like a goat before a troll. 

His breath caught as he forced a small “Yes” out of his mouth. And he all but ran away from the door, up the two flights of stairs, and found a small dark corner where he sat down, knees to his chest, trying to rein his erratic breathing. He calmed down a tad, not much but he could think a little more clearly.

‘What was that?’ thought Bilbo. 

His mind repeated the events that had happened in the dungeon, the moment that he and Thorin shared. Bilbo felt warmth blooming inside him and found himself smiling fondly.

_ ‘ _ Oh no, _ ’  _ He froze, the smile on his face contorting into exasperation. He shook his head as hard as possible, as if he could shake the feeling out of his mind if he tried hard enough. He hugged his knees and rested his head on them as he thought, ‘This can’t be happening.’

As Bilbo snuck around the palace to deliver Thorin’s message to the dwarves, he became more and more resigned that  _ it _ had happened, and there was nothing he could do about  _ it _ . Bilbo tried to ignore  _ it _ at first and focused on his task at hand.

Balin was very much delighted that Thorin was alive and well. Dwalin agreed vehemently that they should not tell the elves anything. Glóin cried in despair that they could never escape from this place. Óin couldn’t seem to hear him at all and after he tried to talk as loud as he dared, he gave up and called it a day for it was already very late.

The next day Bilbo found that he couldn’t ignore  _ it  _ as everything reminded him of Thorin. Bilbo saw him in Fíli’s eyes as he worriedly asked about his brother and asked Bilbo to pass a message to him. He felt his hand when Nori patted him on his back through the bars as he gave Bilbo some tips for sneaking around. He recognized Thorin’s smile in Kíli’s when he brought him not only his uncle’s message but his brother’s as well. He even heard Thorin’s voice slightly when Bifur answered him in rumbling Khuzdul from inside the closet.

As the night fell, Bilbo snuck into the empty kitchen and stole some food. After he ate, he wandered around to find a dark and remote place to rest. As he wandered, lost in his own thoughts, his feet brought him down the two flights of stairs to the heavy oak door.

Bilbo stopped right in front of it, holding in his sigh as he didn’t want to alert Thorin of his presence. He pressed his ear to the door and could hear a slight rustling and footsteps from inside. That night, Bilbo slept in front of the door with his ear pressed to it, letting the slight noises lull him to slumber, invisible and alone.

The next morning, he was woken up by the footsteps echoing towards the dungeon. He quickly got up and hid himself in a dark corner. As soon as the elf was inside Thorin’s cell, Bilbo snuck back upstairs and went to the attic where Ori was being kept. Luckily the door had no lock but just a latch so Bilbo slowly undid the latch and snuck in, leaving the door slightly ajar so he would not be locked inside. Ori let out a strangled yelp when Bilbo took off his ring and appeared from the thin air.

“Mister Baggins, you ruined my sketch!” said Ori.

“Never mind that,” said Bilbo, “I have a message from Thorin.”

Bilbo told him the message, Ori listened carefully as he twirled the charcoal in his hand unconsciously. Bilbo watched as Ori made a complicated twirl and an idea struck him.

“Ori, can you write out the message so I can show it to Óin?” asked Bilbo.

Of course Ori could do it, he was an aspiring scholar after all. So Bilbo left the attic with a small note tucked in his pocket. He carefully put the latch back as they agreed that it was better not to raise any suspicion for the meantime. He passed the note to Óin, then assured Dori that his brothers were perfectly fine, then promised Bombur he would try to sneak some more food for him, and lastly he went to Bofur’s cell. Bofur listened to the message then he took one good look at him and queried,

“What troubles your mind, Bilbo?”

Bilbo gaped at him in surprise

“Is it really obvious?” he asked.

“Not really,” said Bofur, “I just have a good eye for things like that.”

Bilbo nodded but he didn’t answer. Bofur was a dear friend, but his predicament felt too personal to be shared comfortably. And as if Bofur could read his mind, he said,

“It’s fine if you can’t tell. Maybe I could tell you a story to ease your mind?” Bofur offered.

Bilbo shook his head and Bofur hummed knowingly. They sat in companionable silence for some time and after a while Bilbo started to feel silly for mulling about  _ it. _ Bofur seemed to sense his mood shifting, gave him a pat on the back, and gave him a supportive smile. At last, he left Bofur’s cell, went back to the kitchen to steal dinner, and waited for the elf that would bring Thorin’s food.

“ _ Ha sí?”  _ the elf asked as he came in the kitchen.

“ _ Né,” _ answered the cook shortly as he gave the jug and plate to the elf.

“ _ Hannad,” _ the elf grumbled as he carried them out.

Bilbo followed him again but this time he followed the elf inside Thorin’s cell. It was a medium sized room, as big as his bedroom in Bag End. It was very bare and lit with two torches. He snuck into a dark corner and waited until the elf had left and locked the door behind him before he took off his ring.

“Bilbo Baggins!” exclaimed Thorin. “It’s good to see you.”

Bilbo smiled nervously in reply.

“Have you got any news?” asked Thori.

Bilbo didn’t know much besides the fact that the meals were given twice a day, once at dusk and once at dawn, other than that they mostly left them alone. But when he told Thorin, the dwarf king looked a little relieved for the dungeon was very deep and dark, and Thorin had lost track of time; now he had a means to keep track of its passing.

“You might as well stay here at night then,” said Thorin after a while, “No one ever comes down here other than to deliver the meals. We could continue with your… training.”

His mouth agreed with Thorin’s suggestion before his mind caught up with the repercussions. But even if it had, Bilbo wasn’t sure that he would have declined. On one hand, night after night locked in a room with Thorin, while on the other hand, night after night locked in a room with Thorin.

They quickly fell into a routine where Bilbo would sneak around gathering information or passing messages to the other dwarves during the day, then sneak back into Thorin’s cell to train and rest during the night. Thorin wanted him to practice sparring but they couldn’t spar with only one sword, so Bilbo had to make do with stance, guard, and striking drills.

After a week or two of this sneaking sort of life he got to know his way around the palace very well and he held his sword with much greater ease. He also was a great deal calmer, for Thorin didn’t seem to feel or act any differently towards him, so  _ it _ could not go anywhere.

In the meantime, Bilbo did learn a few useful facts. For instance there was one door that was not secured with magic, a trap door that led into the Forest River that flowed to the Long Lake. The elves used it to dispose of empty barrels. Also, the elves would have a feast in the forest in a few days time, leaving the palace almost empty. Based on those facts, Bilbo and Thorin hatched a plan.

They would sneak out when the elves were out partying and hide inside empty barrels until the elves came the next morning and dropped them through the trapdoor. They would ride inside the barrels until they reached Laketown, where the barrels would be refilled.

“But who’s going to pack in the last one?” asked Thorin.

“I won’t be packed inside,” said Bilbo, “I will keep the ring on and cling to a barrel. We need someone to let all of you out when we reach Laketown anyway.”

There was also the problem of rendering the remaining guards unconscious. Dwalin was more than happy to show him some places that he thought could render an elf unconscious if hit hard enough. With the details and precision of his description, Bilbo started to suspect that he had thought of doing this many times before. More useful help came from Nori, who had a bottle of sleeping draught with him.

“One drop for men, three drops for dwarves, so I say around one third of a bottle for elves,” instructed Nori when he gave it to Bilbo.

Bilbo took the bottle gingerly and decided that he didn't want to know why Nori knew such things or even how he had the draught when all of their gears were confiscated when they were caught.

The night before the feast, Bilbo was so nervous he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in his corner, trying to rid his mind of the images of hundreds of ways their plan could go wrong.

“Are you cold?” asked Thorin.

“No, not really,” Bilbo answered skittishly, “I’m fine.”

But a heavy fur coat was draped over him.

“Sleep, we’ll need our strength tomorrow,” said Thorin as he stalked back to his own corner.

Bilbo tugged the coat closer to his body and took a deep breath. It smelled musty and had a tang of sweat but it calmed him down all the same. Bilbo quickly nodded off, dreaming of strong hands and warm embrace.

The next morning he was woken up by Thorin himself. He heard echoing footsteps in the hall outside and realized that he had slept in. He quickly got up and tidied himself, making sure that his sword was on his belt and the sleeping draught was in his pocket. He gave Thorin his coat back and thanked him. Right as Bilbo was about to put on his ring, Thorin said,

“Bilbo...I was wondering...”

“Yes?” Bilbo looked at the dwarf curiously.

“Would you consider staying in Erebor after all this?”

Bilbo felt the calm that he had painstakingly gained these past two weeks fly out the window. He wanted to choke Thorin for his bad timing but the footsteps were getting closer and he could hear the key turning inside the lock so he muttered his answer and quickly put on the ring. The elf came in and looked around suspiciously.

“Who are you talking to?” asked the elf, “I’m sure I heard more than one voice!”

“Nobody in particular,” answered Thorin without missing a beat, “Or to be more accurate, myself.”

The elf looked at Thorin as if he had lost his mind but he didn’t pursue with further questioning. He muttered something that Bilbo was sure translated into ‘crazy dwarf’ and changed the plate and jug, and did not notice Bilbo slip out.

The first thing he did that day was visit Fíli’s cell. He followed the elf who was bringing food for the dwarves closely and as soon as the elf went away, Bilbo pulled off his ring and stared at the young dwarf through the bars with a very serious expression.

“What does it mean, when a dwarf asks you to stay at Erebor after all this?”

Fíli’s face lit up with excitement.

“Uncle asked you that? Finally!” said he.

“I didn’t say... What do you mean by ‘finally’?” spluttered Bilbo.

“That’s not important,” Fíli shrugged off his question, “What did you say?”

Bilbo froze at the question before answered with a soft voice,

“I said that I would, if I had a reason to stay.”

“Really? You would?” asked Fíli in surprise.

“He didn’t ask me if I  _ could,” _ said Bilbo.

Uncomfortable silence befell them.

“I should go,” said Bilbo and he put on his ring and left before Fíli could say anything else.

Before he got too far Bilbo cursed for he hadn’t told Fíli that the plan was going to happen that night. He considered going back but decided against it. So he went around to inform the others and saved Fíli for last. When he was at last back in front of Fíli’s cell, he quickly passed the information and, thankfully, Fíli said nothing about their earlier exchange.

As the sun went down, Bilbo watched as the evening meal was taken to the prisoners. The elves rode out for an autumn feast, leaving only the head guard and a young elf with yellow hair in the palace. The chief guard stood guard near the cellar while the young elf stood guard near the attic where Ori was kept.

Bilbo crept in slowly and tipped one third of the sleeping draught into the head guard’s jug. The guard took a few mouthfuls and very soon the chief guard’s head bobbed up and down sleepily. He fought to stay awake for a short time, but laid his head on the table and fell fast asleep. When the hobbit tried to do the same to the young elf, a loud sound startled him and he poured what was left inside the bottle in the elf’s jug. Bilbo hid himself quickly behind a shadow and watched as the elf drank his water and dropped down in an instant.

Bilbo approached the elf warily, wondering if he had put in too much. But the elf was still breathing and though he would sport a bump on his head after he woke up, he looked otherwisely fine. So Bilbo left him on the floor and went on to his task.

He hurriedly freed the dwarves and led them to the cellar, where barrels were already standing in rows in the middle of the floor waiting to be pushed off. They quickly found thirteen with room enough for a dwarf in each. In fact, some were too roomy, and as they climbed in the dwarves thought anxiously of the shaking and the bumping they would have to endure inside the casks. Bilbo did his best to find straw and other stuff to pack them in as cosily as could be managed in a short time.

Dawn was nearing and only a minute or two after Balin's lid had been fitted on came the sound of voices and the flicker of torch lights. The guards had arrived to roll the barrels down the trapdoor. And so they did, one by one, the guards seemed to be still under the influence of the festivity’s wine for they didn’t notice that the barrels were heavier than they should be. Bilbo caught hold of the last barrel and was pushed over the edge with it. Down into the water he fell, into the cold dark water with the barrel on top of him. And off they floated away from the shadows of Mirkwood.


	11. Chapter 10 - The Course of True Love Never Did Runs Smooth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilbo was sick, Thorin was worried, and there is enough angst to feed thirteen dwarves.
> 
> Similar to previous chapter, this chapter has a lot of the previous version and was originally beta-ed by [Livingmeatloaf](http://livingmeatloaf.tumblr.com/).

The ride was arduous and the river was rough. Bilbo managed to keep his head above the water but the water made the barrel slippery so Bilbo clung to his barrel as tight as he could, fearing that he might lose his grip every time the rapids jarred and tossed him around. He watched as the sun rose up in the sky and he got colder and colder even though it was a bright sunny day. By the time the sun started to go down, Bilbo was shivering and his hand had cramped around his grip. When night fell, Bilbo saw there were people on the look-out on the banks. They quickly prodded and pushed all the barrels together into the shallows and, after counting them, they roped them together and left them there until the morning.

He stiffly released his grip from his barrel and waded ashore; a man stood guard over the barrels so Bilbo couldn’t release the dwarves. Bilbo scuttled closer to the man’s fire. Luckily, it was dark so the guard didn’t notice Bilbo’s weak shadow or the dark wet patch that was growing around where the hobbit sat. He was hungry but he dared not go into the huts that he saw for he surely would leave some wet trails and footprints and he didn’t want to leave the dwarves. So he slept lightly that night, partly because he was cold, another part because he was hungry and because he feared he might be found out.

Morning came in a blanket of soft grey light, and there was a merry racket down by the river. The people were making up a raft of the barrels, and the elves would soon steer it off down the stream to Lake-town. Bilbo’s clothes had dried overnight but he felt stiff and chilled all over. There was no space on the make-shift raft where Bilbo could stand without being trampled, so he waded back into the cold water with determination and clung to the rope that tied the barrels together.

The ride was much smoother than before and the rope turned out to be a better grip but the water was just as cold. Poor Bilbo was chilled to the bone and shaking badly. Luckily the rush of water hid the sound of his teeth clacking. Still, his arms and shoulders were very sore and only by willpower and sense of self-preservation did Bilbo manage to keep his grip and his head above the water as another day passed.

It was dark when they reached Laketown. True to its name, it was not built on the shore but right out on the surface of the lake, protected from the swirl of the entering river by a promontory of rock which formed a calm bay. The night had fallen and the elves of the raft and the boatmen went to sup in Laketown. This meant Bilbo had to release the dwarves now for soon men would come up from the South and take some of the casks away, and others they would fill with goods they had brought to be taken back up the stream to the Wood-elves' home.

Bilbo’s head was pounding and he was very cold. He stumbled on his every other step as he cut loose a barrel and pushed it to the shore. Out came Thorin when he opened the top; he was dry but he tripped out of his barrel to the shore because his limbs were numb after the prolonged time in the cramped barrel. He lied groaning on the shore as feelings came back to them and his limbs felt like they were poked by thousands of pins and needles.

“Help me! We have to be quick,” said Bilbo, or so he thought he said. What actually came out of his mouth was a slurred mumble.

Thorin looked at him with concern while still sitting on the muddy beach, rubbing life back into his feet. It would be a while until Thorin would be any help, so Bilbo left him and got back to work, cutting loose another barrel while his head felt like a scrambled egg and his breath was getting ragged. 

Out came Kíli when he opened it, more or less smiling with only a little stiffness in his limbs.

Kíli recovered much faster than Thorin, who was still groaning on the ground, and by the time Bilbo released the next barrel - which happened to contain Fíli - he was on his feet and helping his brother out of the barrel. Fíli was not much worse for wear than Kíli, with only an additional bruise or two. 

Bilbo was about to go and release another barrel when he tripped on his own feet and landed on his bum. The ground on the shore was soft, cushioning his fall. Thorin, who had finally recovered, got up and said,

“Rest for a while, Bilbo. We will release the others.”

Bilbo nodded but the movement made his head dizzy. He blinked hard to get his vision cleared and saw Thorin talk to his nephews, and soon the three of them waded through the shallow water, knocking and calling the dwarves’ names to find the right barrels to release.

He watched as Balin stumbled out and cracked his joints and Dwalin rubbed on a bump on his forehead. Glóin and Óin were less knocked about but a little water had leaked in their barrels so now they were trying their best to dry their clothes. Bofur turned out to be seasick and he threw up whatever was left in his stomach as soon as he was out of his barrel. Bifur was perfectly fine and was fast asleep when they opened his barrel.

His vision starting to blur again, Bilbo closed his eyes and scrunched his face, willing the blur to go away. When he opened his eyes again, Dori, Nori, and Ori were sitting on the shore slapping their arms and rubbing their legs while the other dwarves were trying to help Bombur get unstuck from his barrel.

‘I should get up and help them’ _ ,  _ thought Bilbo.

So he did. But suddenly, the world tilted around him and he fell down again, this time on his face. The damp mud was cold on his cheek and it felt so nice. The dwarves shouldn’t be too angry if he closed his eyes for a while. Just a little while and he would get up and help them. As Bilbo drifted off, he could hear an exclamation from the dwarves.

‘Has something happened? I should get up and see…’

But his eyelids felt like they were made from lead and his body refused to move at his will. Then he felt something heavy and warm draped around him, there was some shuffling, and he was floating in a warm cocoon. He felt a rush of cold wind on his face.

‘Am I flying? No one ever told me that hobbits could fly! Maybe Mum just forgot, like how she always forgot to tell Father where I’ve been when I snuck out to the woods.’

Suddenly they came to a halt, he was no longer flying but he thought he was still floating. He hoped he would not suddenly drop down. He heard some clattering and people shouting, though he could barely hear what they were saying through the thick fog inside his head.

“....in peace...your arms...” said an unfamiliar voice.

“...have none...your master...worn...injured...” said another rumbling voice, a familiar one.

‘That’s not true!’ Bilbo thought with his fuzzy head. __

He had two arms and they were perfectly fine, the trolls didn’t rip them off. He must move them and tell Thorin that so the shouting would stop for it was hurting his head. Bilbo tried as he might but only managed to shuffle a little and whimper. At that, the cocoon around him tightened and the disagreement stopped. Bilbo hummed and curled himself tighter inside the cocoon; it seemed he had somehow managed to put his argument across.

They were moving again and he was flying again! Bilbo started to think that maybe the flying had something to do with the dwarves. Thorin would look very grand if he could fly, his coat would go all swishy behind him. Bilbo wanted to giggle at the image of Thorin flying with his coat fluttering behind him like a great cape but when he opened his mouth the air was cold on his dry throat and he fell into a coughing fit.

His cocoon burst and he was dropped down onto a soft surface. Then there were hands, big and calloused, starting to take off his clothes. Bilbo tried to struggle because he  _ liked  _ his clothes and he just fixed that waistcoat! But the hands were strong and unyielding, and the familiar rumbling voice hushed him.

“...wet...chest cold...” was all Bilbo could make out.

‘Of course my chest is cold now,’ thought Bilbo. But a warm sheet was pulled up and covered him from his toes to his cheeks. The hands caressed his forehead softly, they felt cold and nice, and Bilbo quickly drifted off to sleep.

He opened his eyes and he saw a wooden ceiling. He blinked, and the ceiling was still there. He turned his head to the right and saw Thorin, who was only wearing a tunic and a pair of trousers, his mail and coat strangely absent. He was soaking something in a basin; he lifted it up and Bilbo saw that it was a napkin. The dream he had before was already lost from his mind. Thorin pressed the water out from the napkin and folded it, then turned to Bilbo.

“Go back to sleep,” said Thorin as he put the napkin on Bilbo’s forehead.

‘What a nice dream,’ thought Bilbo as he did as told and fell into a dreamless sleep this time.

When he woke up again, he was very confused. The last thing he remembered clearly was Bombur getting stuck in his barrel and his head pounding as if someone took a hammer and hit it from the inside. Right now, his head didn’t hurt and he was inside a wooden room. The ceiling was very high unlike the one in Bag-End. The bed was also much larger than he was used to.

He looked around and the size of the furniture confirmed his suspicion that he was in a room built for men. This meant they had arrived safely in Laketown. He also saw a figure sitting beside his bed, his head resting on folded arms that lay on the edge of Bilbo’s bed. _ Thorin _ was only wearing a tunic and a pair of trousers and was snoring lightly, his dark 

mane tied up in a ponytail and his braids spread on the bed.

Bilbo noticed that his throat was parched and realized that he was very thirsty. He could see a water basin on top of the drawers beside his bed but he couldn’t find a jug or a cup in sight. He was about to wake Thorin up when the door opened.

“Ah Bilbo, you’re awake!” said Balin quietly as he closed the door behind him.

Bilbo nodded and eyed the water jug in Balin’s hand hopefully. And as if he could read his mind, Balin poured out a cup and handed it to him.

“Here, you must be thirsty.”

"Thag you very buch," said Bilbo with a raspy voice.

He sipped the water slowly and cleared his throat.

“How long?” he asked.

“Two nights have passed since we were released from our barrels and it’s almost noon today,” answered Balin.

Bilbo nodded and took another sip.

“Are we in Laketown?”

“Aye, we had a very warm welcome and a large house was given to our company,” explained Balin.

“And...” Bilbo glanced at the dwarf that was still sleeping at his bedside, “Thorin?”

“Thorin has hardly left your side since we arrived here,” Balin smiled. “He helped Óin nurse you through your fever.”

Bilbo looked at the sleeping dwarf fondly, his hand moving to touch him while the other hand still held his cup. He touched Thorin’s braids’ ends and caressed them between his fingers gently, feeling the coarse hairs rubbing against each other.

‘This isn’t fair,’ thought Bilbo, ‘how could I pretend that I felt nothing when you are so kind?’

“I see that his feelings are returned,” said Balin simply.

Bilbo retracted his hand as if he touched a hot surface. He turned to Balin and opened his mouth to retort but the sudden intake of breath sent him into a coughing fit. Balin quickly rushed to his side, took the cup from his hand, and patted his back. The commotion woke Thorin; Bilbo saw him watching him as his cough receded into wheezes.

“You’re awake,” said Thorin.

Bilbo just nodded, unable to say anything for he was still wheezing.

“How are you feeling?” asked Thorin.

“Better,” Bilbo wheezed, “Tired but better.”

Thorin nodded.

“Rest. I’ll call for Óin.”

And he left the room. Bilbo watched his back as he caught his breath until the door closed and it was no longer visible. Balin watched him and from his face he could tell that the old dwarf was  _ excited _ .

“He cares for you a great deal, Bilbo. But I’m afraid his pride would hinder him from courting you until we reclaimed Erebor,” said Balin as he shot Bilbo a meaningful look with a glint of teasing in his eyes.

Bilbo sighed in despair; how come the dwarves thought this was  _ exciting  _ and _ amusing? _ It was not, it was suffocating and hopeless and they should know exactly why. But Balin still nursed a small smile on his lips and it grated Bilbo’s nerves badly. There was an angry light in Bilbo’s eyes and his kindly face grew hard.

“Are you saying that I should pursue him?” asked Bilbo calmly. “And condemn both of us to a life pining for each other from the opposite ends of Middle Earth, never to move on?”

Bilbo watched as all traces of amusement left Balin’s face, replaced by weariness and resignation.

“It was already like that for Thorin, for, us dwarves only love once and never again.”

Now Bilbo felt slightly guilty, but was it so wrong to want to have the possibilities of loving someone else and moving on for himself? 

‘But how likely would that be, with you knowing someone you love this much will continue to love you and only you?’ his mind supplied very unhelpfully.

“And I always think that both of you will find a way,” continued Balin, “Maybe you could stay in Erebor--”

“If we came out of this journey alive, I  _ have to _ go back to the Shire,” Bilbo cut him off, “You of all people should know that, Mister Balin...”

Before Balin could say anything else, the door opened. In came Thorin, carrying a teapot and a cup, and Óin, bringing a satchel of assorted medicines and medical supplies. Óin quickly came to his bedside, checking his pulse and temperature and other things while Thorin stood back and exchanged looks with Balin.

“Don’t just stand there, laddie,” scolded Óin, pulling out his brand-new ear trumpet, “Come and give Mister Baggins his tea!”

Thorin just nodded. He poured the tea into a cup and handed it to Bilbo. Bilbo took a sip and almost spat it out again.

“What is this?”

“My original concoction,” said Óin, “Fenugreek, ginger, turmeric, and pepper!”

Bilbo eyed the cup warily and, against his better judgement, he took another sip. It still tasted as bad as before.

“Do I really have to?”

“Aye,” said Óin, “It will be good for your chest!”

Bilbo took a deep breath and finished his cup in a few large gulps. He coughed and choked after that and soon he was snorting snots and coughing out phlegm. Thorin watched him like a hawk while Óin tutted approvingly. Óin took out a jar of salve that smelled like garlic  _ and  _ turpentine and instructed him to rub it on his chest. The concoction was vile and the salve was foul but they worked like a charm. Bilbo recovered quickly, in a few days he was right as rain.

On the days when he was recovering and confined to the bed, Thorin would come with Óin as he did his checkups and watch Bilbo closely. He would ask a question or two and then leave with Óin again. Bilbo was confused but he was mostly relieved that he didn’t have to have awkward conversations with the dwarf.

They stayed for a fortnight in Laketown and Thorin seemed to avoid being alone with him at any cost. He would excuse himself to talk to the town’s Master or another member of the company. So Bilbo was left with Balin’s words getting heavier in his mind, eliciting turmoil inside him.

They left Laketown in three large boats, laden with rowers and many provisions. In two days’ span, they rowed right up the Long Lake and passed out into the River Running. Now they could all see the Lonely Mountain towering grim and eerily vast before them. The peak was hidden in the clouds and its foot spanned wide. The air was dour and silence reigned,  broken by no bird or sound except that of the wind in the crannies of stone.  It was a wearying journey, and a quiet and stealthy one. Bilbo knew that they were drawing near to the end of their quest, and that it might be a very horrible end.

‘Soon I have to face the dragon’, thought Bilbo.

That should be enough to distract him from his internal turmoil.

They reached the skirts of the Mountain without meeting any danger or any sign of the Dragon other than the barren wilderness he had made about his lair. The Mountain lay dark and silent before them and ever higher above them.

Thorin sent out a scouting expedition to spy out the land to the South where the Front Gate stood. For this purpose, he chose Dwalin, Fíli, and Kíli. Bilbo went with them, for he wanted to put some distance between himself and Thorin.

They marched to the foot of Ravenhill; from there they could see into the wide valley shadowed by the Mountain's arms, the grey ruins of ancient houses, towers, and walls scattered on the barren land.

"That is all that is left of Dale," said Dwalin, "The valley used to be covered with green on the mountain's sides and at its heart the town was bright and rich."

Bilbo looked at the burnt remnants of the town, picturing its look once upon a time. Then he longed for the Shire. It was just past mid-Autumn, the trees would be bright with colours, the farmers would be preparing their land for the winter, the marsh would be covered with thick fog, and the markets would be full of pumpkins and mushrooms, Bilbo could even smell the fresh earthy smells from the stalls. Oh how he loved the Shire! And how proud was he to be its leader!

They strode along the riverbank to the south until they reached a great rock. Peering past the rock, they could see a cavernous opening between the arms of the Mountain. There was a watergate and through the lower bars water ran, but they also could see steam and dark smoke emitting ominously.

The valley was eerily silent and nothing moved in the waste. All four of the scouting party shuddered, and Dwalin decided that there was nothing else they could do over there and they should head back to camp.

On the way back, Bilbo took one last look at the ruins of Dale and made up his mind. He would help the dwarves as promised. Then he would return to the Shire, to his people, to his  _ home, _ and Thorin would become the leader of another ally for the Shire. That and nothing more and it  _ had _ to be enough.

Bilbo’s face set in grim anticipation: he couldn’t deny what he felt for Thorin therefore this would be  _ hard _ . But he will do it for he is the Baggins and a good Baggins will endure any hardship for the welfare of hobbitfolk. The Shire came first and would always come before any personal  _ whim _ Bilbo might have at the moment and he should stop looking for any loophole that might exist  _ right now _ .

Thorin was waiting for them when they reached the camp. Bilbo felt his chest constrict at the sight of the dwarven King, already his mind racing for excuses that may let him be together with Thorin. Bilbo shooed the thought away, repeating his resolution like a mantra inside his head. He could do this, he  _ must  _ do this.

Bilbo stayed back as Dwalin immediately reported their findings and they discussed its possible meaning. They agreed that the dragon was still alive and guarding its hoard and that it was wise to approach the mountain from another direction rather than the front door. Thorin eyed Bilbo worriedly as he listened carefully to the other dwarf. Bilbo tried to smile reassuringly but it came out akin to a grimace.

When the discussion was over, Bilbo hurriedly went away to help the others pack but Thorin called after him.

“Bilbo, are you alright? Are you still unwell?”

Bilbo took a deep breath.

‘I will not act on my feelings. The Shire is and will always be my first priority.’

He repeated that in his head three more times before he answered.

“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern.”

“If you’re feeling up to it, I was wondering if you wanted to continue your sword training. We haven’t tried sparring,” said Thorin.

‘I will not act on my feelings.’ Bilbo thought forcefully.

“Can’t Dwalin or somebody else spar with me?” asked Bilbo.

“They can, but none of them had the grasp of swordsmanship and your ability as well as me. Or are you saying that I’ve been a bad teacher?” asked Thorin hotly, his eyes narrowed.

‘The Shire is and will always be my first priority.’

“I didn't mean it like that. I was thinking that you had spared enough of your time for my training,” Bilbo answered smoothly.

“My time is free for me to use as I see it fit. And I see it fit to fulfil my promise to teach you how to use your sword,” said Thorin, “So your answer is?”

“If that is the case then...” Bilbo hesitated

‘I will not act on my feelings. The Shire is and will always be…’

“I would really like that.”

‘ _ Oh bugger it! _ ’

“I’ll see you this afternoon after we move our camp, then,” said Thorin.

_ ‘Sideways and twice over!’ _

Bilbo nodded and went to pack his belongings. He could feel Thorin’s eyes boring into his back and he tried his best to ignore him. It had been decided that they would move the camp to one of the Lonely Mountain’s western spurs. They moved quickly and settled their new camp before sundown.

After Bilbo finished unpacking, he took his sword and headed to the clearing eastward from their camp. All the way there Bilbo convinced himself that he needed the training and he definitely  _ did not _ accept Thorin’s offer just to spend more time with him. When Bilbo arrived at the clearing, Thorin was already there and he was doing a series of drills with a sword given to him by the men of Laketown.

Bilbo was mesmerized. It was a familiar drill, one of the drills that Thorin had taught him, but in Thorin’s hand the movements looked sharp and strong, twisting and turning like a rapid current. It was a pity that they couldn’t retrieve their weapons from the elves. Bilbo wondered how amazing it would look if Thorin was using Orcist. Thorin saw Bilbo and lowered the sword; he gestured for Bilbo to come closer and Bilbo did.

“We’ll warm up with several drills,” Thorin instructed, “I’ll be joining you because I need to get used to this sword.”

Thorin pulled the first stance. Bilbo unsheathed Sting and followed his stance.

“We’ll start with the second stance and guards drill,” said Thorin.

Bilbo nodded and they moved together in a rhythm. Step after step, stance after stance, and guard after guard. They breathed in sync as movements flowed through their bodies. They went on like that for another drill and another drill until Bilbo felt sweat forming on his back.

“Very good,” said Thorin when they finished their drills.

Bilbo thanked him and watched him closely for further instruction. His breath was slightly ragged and his heart was racing. Being so close to Thorin and so in tune with him felt so  _ right.  _ Bilbo wanted more, he wanted so much more even though he knew he couldn’t, even though he promised himself he wouldn’t.

“Now for the sparring, first you will come to me with all you have and we will work from there,” Thorin instructed.

Bilbo sheathed his sword and prepared to do just that. It would be a good way to vent his frustration without fearing he would inflict any damage.

“Why did you sheath your sword?” asked Thorin.

“Aren’t we going to spar?” Bilbo asked back.

“Aye and therefore, why did you sheath your sword?” asked Thorin again.

Bilbo frowned. Thorin wanted them to spar with an unsheathed sword?

“But one of us might get hurt,” Bilbo voiced out his concern.

“The weight and balance of a sword differs greatly whether it is sheathed or not. Also I won’t let that happen,” said Thorin. “Don’t you trust me?”

Bilbo felt his breath catch. Thorin’s blue eyes gazed at him, piercing and demanding, and Bilbo couldn’t find a reason not to trust this dwarf with his well being, with his life, with everything. So Bilbo unsheathed his sword again and settled into the stance he was most comfortable with.

“I do,” said Bilbo, looking straight into Thorin’s eyes.

“Remember your strikes and guards drill. Do not hesitate.” Thorin raised his sword and held his gaze. “Ready?”

Bilbo nodded.

“Go.”

And they clashed. Thorin blocked his first strike with ease, sending vibrations down the length of both of their swords. Bilbo was startled by the force but quickly brushed it off and swung his sword for another strike which Thorin blocked effectively too. Bilbo continued to make blow after blow, looking for an opening but failing to find it. Thorin blocked his blows with a calculating look and finally he deflected one particularly vicious blow to his chest and said,

“Defend yourself.”

And he started to attack. Bilbo was overwhelmed. Thorin came on strong and fast and Bilbo didn’t have time to  _ think,  _ he just instinctively pulled defensive guard after guard. But Bilbo felt Thorin relent a little whenever he started to feel too overwhelmed then continue as soon as Bilbo composed himself a little.

They continued for a while and Bilbo started to fall into a rhythm when Thorin suddenly struck hard and close. Bilbo barely had time to block it and Thorin was so close to him. He could feel the dwarf’s breath hot on his face as blue eyes trained on him mere inches from his own. Bilbo staggered back, his sword still raised, and eyed Thorin warily.

Bilbo felt like a startled animal and felt the urge to dash away far from Thorin. But Thorin lowered his sword and straightened his back. The urge to flee subsided and Bilbo lowered his sword too.

“You used the strikes and guards effectively,” said Thorin. “You are quite agile but lacking in strength.”

“Thank you,” said Bilbo.

There wasn’t much he could do about strength but he definitely could take pride in his agility. The sun was almost down and the clearing was bathed in golden light, illuminating Thorin’s profile. Bilbo felt a twinge inside him and a treacherous thought crept up inside his mind.

‘If we’re going to part either way, why can’t we give it a go and enjoy it while it lasts?’

Bilbo shooed the thought away for it was selfish and unfair to Thorin. Bilbo also wasn’t sure he could let go when the time came.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Thorin’s voice broke him out of his reverie. “Shall we continue tomorrow?”

“Yes,” answered Bilbo.

They headed back to camp together, walking much closer than necessary. Bilbo’s heart skipped a beat every time Thorin’s arm brushed his shoulder. He wanted to pull away but at the same time he wanted to draw closer. Bilbo ignored Balin’s knowing look when they reached the camp and took his serving of dinner from Bombur. He sat near Bofur and Ori and let his thoughts drift while the dwarves' chattering washed over him.

For days, they toiled in parties searching for paths up the mountainside and in the afternoons Bilbo would come to the clearing to train. The training would always start with drills and after that Thorin would spar with him. Sometimes Thorin would pause the fight to correct him or advise him to make some moves more effective and then they would resume.

To Bilbo’s relief they were not always alone. Sometimes Balin and Dwalin or Fíli and Kíli would join them in the drills and the others would also spar on the clearing around them. But when they were alone it always felt very intense and _ intimate _ to Bilbo and it frayed his resolution fast. Bilbo realized he was fighting a losing battle with himself and hoped they would find the door soon and so put an end to his training.

Finally, Bombur found the path to the secret door unexpectedly one day. He was gathering herbs for dinner when he found a bunch of crocus growing not too high on the mountainside. Bombur was excited: he had heard rumours about the delicacy of saffron made from Erebor’s crocus. There was a slope not too far from the bunch and Bombur tread it carefully, but when he reached out to pick the flowers he slipped and landed on (and broke) some rough steps going upwards.

The others were excited and they followed those weathered steps with high spirits. The dwarves found traces of a narrow track, often lost, often rediscovered, that wandered on to the top of the southern ridge and brought them at last to a still narrower ledge, which turned north across the face of the Mountain. Looking down they saw that they were at the top of the cliff at the valley's head and were gazing down on to their own camp below.

Silently, clinging to the rocky wall on their right, they went in single file along the ledge, until the wall opened and they turned into a little steep-walled bay, grassy-floored, still and quiet.The entrance was hidden from below because of the overhang of the cliff and unseen from afar because of it small size. It was not a cave for it was open to the sky above; but at its inner end a flat wall rose up that, at the lower part, was as smooth and upright as a master mason's work, but without a joint or crevice to be seen.

The company was sure that they had found the door but they could not find a way to open it. It was the beginning of the first week of autumn and the sun began to sink. When they were about to give up, Bilbo heard a sharp crack behind him. There on the grey stone in the grass was an enormous thrush.  _ Crack! _ It had caught a snail and was knocking it on the stone.  _ Crack! Crack! _

Bilbo watched the grey stone curiously as the sun sank lower and lower. It sank into a belt of reddened clouds and disappeared. The little moon was rising from the horizon. Evening was coming on. Then, suddenly, a red ray of the sun escaped like a finger through a rent in the cloud. A gleam of light came straight through the opening into the bay and fell on the smooth rock-face.

The old thrush, who had been watching from a high perch with beady eyes and head cocked on one side, gave a sudden trill. There was a crack. A flake of rock split from the wall and fell, leaving a keyhole about three feet from the ground.

"Thorin!” cried Bilbo, “Where’s the key?”

Thorin hurried up and held the key to Bilbo questioningly. Bilbo pointed to the keyhole and urged,

“Hurry! Try it now while there is still time!"

Thorin stepped up and drew the key on its chain from round his neck. He put it to the hole. It fit and it turned! Snap! The gleam went out, the sun sank, the moon was gone, and evening sprang into the sky. The door swung open slowly without being pushed; it seemed as if darkness flowed out like a thick vapour from the hole in the mountain-side, and deep darkness in which nothing could be seen lay before their eyes. The mouth of the tunnel led in and down.

Bilbo eyed the darkness warily. It was time to hold his end of the contract.


	12. Chapter 11 - Into The Lonely Mountain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was edited with the old beta notes from [Livingmeatloaf](http://livingmeatloaf.tumblr.com/).

The company gathered on the grassy bay to discuss their further action. It went without saying that Bilbo would go down the tunnels to sneak inside but what would the rest of the dwarves do? Bilbo rejected the notion that all of them go down the tunnel together for the sole reason that they couldn’t be quiet to save their lives and therefore would defeat the purpose of  _ sneaking.  _ But Bilbo couldn’t deny that he didn’t want to go down the tunnel alone and soon the discussion became which one of them would go down with Bilbo?

Balin offered to go but immediately retracted his offer when many others wanted to go too. Fíli and Kíli thought that they should go because they had never seen the insides of Erebor before. Thorin thought that the youngsters would get distracted and bring all three of them to harm, therefore  _ he  _ should go because he was familiar with Erebor and furthermore the mountain was  _ his _ . Dwalin agreed with Thorin.

Dori thought he should go because he was the strongest of all and he could carry Bilbo if anything happened, Ori agreed with Dori. Óin didn’t want to go anywhere near that darkness before he was sure the tunnel had an end. Glóin vehemently agreed with his brother. Bofur didn’t quite understand what all the fuss was about and Bombur had to be squeezed to fit into that tunnel anyway so they offered to guard the ponies and their packs instead. Bifur nodded vigorously.

They had reached a stalemate and turned to Bilbo. Bilbo scrunched his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed someone who was quick and light footed - as light footed as a dwarf can be - and would flee instead of fight when the situation became dire. The choice was clear really but Bilbo wasn’t sure the others would like it, especially Thorin.

But the stars were coming out in a pale sky barred with black and Bilbo would really like to get on with this. So he said,

“Nori? Would you come with me?”

The question startled Nori, who was standing back all through the discussion. Some of the others hummed their agreement while the rest - including Thorin - grunted their disapproval. But Nori smiled and said,

“At your service, Mister Baggins.”

And that was that. Thorin decided that they should move their camp up on the landing near the entrance, so the others went to work, leaving Bilbo and Nori looking down the dark tunnel. They crept through the enchanted door and stole into the Mountain.

It was far easier going than Bilbo expected. It was a passage made by dwarves, at the height of their wealth and skill: straight as a ruler, smooth-floored and smooth-sided, going with a gentle never-varying slope directly to some distant end in the blackness below. Soon they could no longer hear the rustle of the whispering voices of the others just outside.

“I thought you would choose Thorin,” said Nori suddenly.

“I chose who I saw fit for our purpose,” said Bilbo.

“And Thorin does not fit?” asked Nori.

Bilbo sighed. There were plenty of reasons why Bilbo did not choose Thorin but most of them were too personal for Bilbo to share. So he said,

“I feared that he might do something rash when he faced the Wyrm. You saw what happened when he met the pale orc...”

Nori nodded, and they continued walking in silence down, down, down into the dark. The air became warmer and warmer and they could see a faint glow ahead of them. As they went forward it grew and grew, till there was no doubt about it. It was a red light steadily getting redder and redder. Also it was now undoubtedly hot in the tunnel.

They braced themselves and went on to the end of the tunnel, an opening of much the same size and shape as the door above. They peeped their head out of the door and they saw before them a vast amount of treasure stretching away across the unseen floors, great jars and vessels filled with a wealth that could not be guessed. But what took Bilbo’s breath away was the creature that perched on all those treasures. 

There he lay, a vast red-golden dragon, fast asleep; thrumming came from his jaws and nostrils, and wisps of smoke, but his fires were banked low in slumber. Smaug lay, with wings folded like an immeasurable bat, turned partly on one side, so that the hobbit could see his underparts and his long pale belly encrusted with gems and fragments of gold from his long sleep on his costly bed.

Hobbits were small, the smallest of all sentient races but Bilbo never felt so small before, never felt so  _ insignificant _ . Just a whip of that thick coiled tail and he would be no more and Bilbo doubted the red drake would even  _ feel it. _ His little sword would be as good as a toothpick against its impenetrable scales. His heart was pierced and filled with fear as he gazed motionless at the frightful guardian.

Suddenly Smaug stirred a wing, opened a claw, and rolled to his side, the rumble of his snoring changing its note. Bilbo was not a hero, so he snatched a cup near the entrance and fled. His heart was beating and a more fevered shaking was in his legs than when he was going down.

Halfway through the tunnel Bilbo realized that Nori was not with him. He cursed and turned back swiftly. When he reached Nori, the dwarf was still gazing at the piles and piles of gold, unmoving. Thankfully the dragon did not wake  –  not yet  – but shifted into other dreams of greed and violence, lying there in his stolen hall.

Bilbo called out to Nori as loud as he dared, but the dwarf did not respond: he did not seem to hear Bilbo at all. At last, Bilbo had to drag him into the tunnel with one hand while his other hand still clutched the cup. When they could see the faint outline of the door Nori snapped back to himself. He gasped and panted and he was shaking; Bilbo could see a manic gleam in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” asked Bilbo.

Nori shook his head.

“Can you walk ‘til outside?” asked Bilbo again, pointing at the slight gleam that marked their exit.

Nori nodded. And he did walk, albeit slowly until they reached the open air. The others were waiting anxiously at the entrance and exclaimed in relief when the two of them appeared from the tunnel. Nori collapsed into his brothers’ arms as soon as they were within arms’ reach.

“There’s more where that came from.”

Bilbo passed the cup to Thorin as Óin rushed to Nori’s side. When Óin inquired Nori about what happened he answered,

“Gold,” said Nori with a shaky voice, “More gold than all the gold I’ve seen in my life combined... and one fourteenth of that gold is  _ mine.” _

The older dwarves look concerned while the younger ones and the Urs looked as confused as Bilbo.

“I barely noticed the Wyrm,” Nori continued, “It  _ scares  _ me.”

Óin looked at Balin, who nodded solemnly. All of the older dwarves suddenly looked very grim. Silence stretched until finally Kíli couldn’t hold it in anymore and demanded, “Would somebody tell us what is this all about!?”

“He was gold-dazed,” said Thorin.

Kíli shut his mouth. Thorin’s explanation seemed to satisfy the other dwarves while Bilbo was still very confused. His confusion apparently was clear on his face for before he could ask, Dori answered him.

“We dwarves are easily overwhelmed by our lust for treasures, Mister Baggins. It causes us to not be able to think about anything else beside the treasure before us and the need to  _ claim  _ it,” he explained as he stroked his brother’s back soothingly.

“Is he going to be alright?” asked Bilbo.

“Aye,” Óin answered, “It’s a good thing that he feared his goldlust. If he revels in it and becomes overcome with greed, it could lead to sickness of the mind.”

“The sickness of King Thrór ,” said Fíli, barely more than a whisper but unbearably loud in the silence of the night.

The mood became very grim and Bilbo shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

“Enough of that,” said Thorin, “What can you tell us about the Wyrm?”

It took Bilbo a few moments before he realized that the question was directed at him.

“It was alive and breathing,” Bilbo answered, “But was in deep slumber.”

“Did you notice anything that might help us get rid of it?” asked Dwalin.

Bilbo shuddered as he remembered Smaug in all his glory. His back and limbs were covered in red scales like impenetrable shields that stacked tightly together. His underparts were the same only in lighter colour and were adorned with diamonds and hard gems that stuck there because of the decades he spent sleeping on the treasures. But suddenly Bilbo recalled seeing a patch of flesh, naked as a snail out of its shell, when the Wyrm rolled around in his sleep.

“There is a large bare patch on the hollow of its left breast,” said Bilbo.

Thorin and Dwalin nodded then both of them fell into a deep thought. After a few moments of silence they heard a soft ‘thump’ and the old thrush that was still perched above them flew away. The company turned to see that Ori had fallen from his seat and wfast asleep on Dori’s lap. Bilbo realized that the night was very late and he was very tired.

“It was well past midnight,” said Balin, “All of us should rest.”

“Aye, we’ll discuss what to do tomorrow,” said Thorin.

Bilbo got up sluggishly to unpack his bedroll while others did the same. From the corner of his eyes he could see Dori refusing help from Bofur and carrying his fast asleep youngest brother; Nori followed them like a lost puppy. It was a jarring sight, the cocky and mischievous Nori looking so lost. He lied down and glanced at Thorin’s direction, said dwarf was still talking quietly with Dwalin. Bilbo couldn’t make out his words but he let the low rumbling voice lull him into slumber.

Only a couple of hours into their rest, they were woken up by a thundering voice from inside the mountain as if it was an old fire-mountain that had woken from it slumbe, ready to erupt once again. Up the long tunnel came dreadful echoes, from far down in the depths, of a bellowing and a trampling that made the ground beneath them tremble. They woke up groggily and confused for they were still sleep addled. Dawn just arrived, casting a pale light on the bay. Then they heard a mighty roar that woken a feeling of dread inside their stomach, a whistle of steam followed, and a gush of wind like a small hurricane coming from the other side of the mountain. 

They swiftly realized what had happened: Smaug had awoken!

“Dragons know their wealth to an ounce,” said Balin in horror, “It must have missed the cup!”

“Nothing can escape Smaug when he sees it!” Bofur said, “We must hide!”

“Into the tunnel!” Bilbo voiced the only hiding place he could think of. “Quick!”

The company hurriedly gathered their packs and went into the tunnel. The entrance was so narrow that they had to push their pack before them or pull it after them.Balin ducked in first, quickly followed by his brother and Bilbo. Dori pushed Nori in before himself and pulled Ori behind him, the young scribe's eyes wide with terror, but when Bombur tried to squeeze in, he got stuck on the entryway.

The ones already inside scurried around their packs to pull Bombur inside while the ones outside pushed with all their might. As they pushed and pulled, the roars of wind from Smaug’s flight could be heard closing in on them. At last with a small ‘pop’ in went Bombur and Bifur, Fíli and Kíli stumbling in behind them, then Óin and Glóin, and lastly Thorin rushed in after him.

It was not a moment too soon that they all safely encased inside the mountain, for Smaug came hurtling in from the North, licking the mountainsides with flame, beating his great wings to stir the air into a roaring wind. His hot breath shrivelled the grass before the door and drove in through the crack they had left, scorching them where they lay hid. Flickering fires leapt up and black shadows cast by the rocky mountain side danced. 

“What about our ponies?” asked Fíli.

Shrieks of terror, a whooshing sound as the dragon swooped down, cracks of bones, and smell of burnt flesh answered Fíli’s question. They cringed for the fate of their ponies although they were thankful as that could be very well have been their fate. They listened as the roar of the flying dragon grew and then passed and faded. There was silence.

They waited for a full day, huddled close together inside the tunnel, before they dared to peek outside. They carefully crept up again to the bay and saw that it was no longer grassy, for the fire had burned and wilted all living things on the mountainside. They looked around the mountain, as far as their eyes could see but there was no sight of Smaug.

“Our ponies were from the men of Laketown,” said Dwalin, “The Dragon must have assumed that the thief was one of them.”

Bilbo felt dread pooling inside him.

“What have I done? I’ve brought Smaug’s wrath unto them!”

A broad hand rested on his shoulder.

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Thorin, “None of us knew or expected this would happen.”

“Aye laddie,” said Balin as he patted Bibo’s back, “All we can do now is hope that the Dragon doesn’t punish the Laketown so badly.”

“I wish we could warn them somehow,” said Ori in a small voice.

“All of us do,” said Bofur.

“What do we do now?” asked Kíli.

“Now we wait,” said Thorin. “The Wyrm should fall back into deep slumber after it satisfies its bloodlust. Maybe then we can sneak in and kill it.”

So they waited, little they ate and little they spoke. Bilbo huddled close to Thorin during the nights seeking comfort and Thorin gave it freely to him. Two nights had passed and still there was no sign of Smaug. There was no sign of it in the sky and there were also no sounds from below heralding the dragon's return. They waited for another couple of nights until they couldn’t wait anymore, restless from the lack of happenings.

“We should go down and make for the old look-out post at the Southwest corner of the Mountain,” said Dwalin on the morning of the fourth day. “From there we could see if something really has happened to Laketown!”

The others were quick to agree so down they went. The tunnel got darker and darker the further down they went and without the dragon’s glow at the end of the tunnel they could not see anything at all. They stumbled out and fell into a pile at the end of the tunnel.

Glóin pulled out his tinder boxes and lit a torch. Bilbo heard a collective relieved sigh when it turned out the light of the torch was just enough to light their path but not enough for them to see all of the treasures. The company made their way through the hall and through the gaping doors. They lit more torches when they were outside the treasury.

They climbed long stairs and went down wide echoing hallways. There are no sign of any living thing, only furtive shadows that fled from the approach of their torches fluttering in the draughts. Finally, they reached the front gate but their journey was far from over. They followed an old path and before long came to a deep dell sheltered among the rocks. There they rested for a while, and had a small lunch. After that they went on again. and now the road struck westwards and left the river. At last in the late afternoon they came to the top of the ridge where a small guard house carved out from a large boulder stood.

“In the olden days, this was a guardroom. There were several places like it round the Mountain,” said Balin. “We can stay here for a while - hidden and sheltered - and can see much without being seen."

They unpacked their packs and stayed there for the night. The sun had set when they arrived therefore they couldn’t see much of their surroundings. Morning came and they saw on the west of the mountain, where Laketown lay, white smoke and steam rising thick from the river. It confirmed their suspicion that Smaug had gone to Laketown.

But why hadn’t the drake come back? Fortunately for them, they didn’t have to ponder too long before the thrush was back and with it an aged raven of great size. He alighted stiffly on the ground before them, slowly flapped his wings, and bobbed towards Thorin.

“Hail, Thorin son of Thráin, I am Roäc son of Cärc,” said the raven. “Behold! The birds are gathering back again to the Mountain and to Dale from South and East and West, for word has spread that Smaug is dead!"

Everyone rejoiced at the news and were very curious about how the dragon met his demise. They listened as Roäc told them the story. But Roäc also warned them that the news of the dragon’s death had caused some people to gather to claim the treasures. At this Thorin became enraged and asked Roäc to send news to Dain of the Iron Hills requesting an army. At last they thanked the thrush and Roäc for the good news and dashed back to the mountain in high spirits.

The dragon was dead!

The company rushed back to the mountain and Bilbo had no choice but to follow them. However, when they reached the front gate Bilbo paused, as he was in no hurry to go back inside the dark halls of the mountain. He waited until the others went inside before him and shot one last look at the view behind him before he turned to follow them.

Thorin stopped on his track when he realized Bilbo was no longer following him. He looked back and saw that Bilbo was gazing longingly at the sky.

“You can stay out here until dark, if you like,” said Thorin .

“Won’t you need help inside?” asked Bilbo.

“We won’t do much today.” shrugged Thorin.

“Then I’d like to stay a while, if you don’t mind,” Bilbo glanced at the valley behind them, “Despite the ruins, this is quite a breathtaking view.”

Thorin walked back out and stopped beside Bilbo. They looked at the Valley of Dale before them.

“It’ll be even more so when spring comes,” Thorin sighed wistfully.

They stood in silence. Bilbo watched as the dwarf took in the sight of the valley. There was a mixture of relief, longing, and pride in his eyes and suddenly Bilbo understood. Thorin was  _ home. _

“Welcome home, Thorin, son of Thráin, son of Thrór , King Under The Mountain,” Bilbo bowed his head gently with a smile.

Thorin turned to look at him in surprise.

“Thank you, Mister Baggins,” Thorin’s astonishment melted into a gentle smile, not unlike the one he showed Bilbo back at Beorn’s house, “It’s good to be home.”

Bilbo smiled back earnestly for he was genuinely happy that his friends had finally  _ finally  _ gotten their home back. For a moment, Thorin looked dumbfounded but he quickly composed himself to his usual hardened demeanor.

“I’ll see you inside later,” Thorin excused himself.

Bilbo nodded and watched Thorin turn to go into the mountain. Bilbo watched his back until darkness engulfed it. Then he found a nice spot to sit and pulled out his pipe. He still had some smoking-weed provided by the men of Laketown; it wasn’t as good as pipe-weed from Southfathing but it would do. 

Bilbo enjoyed the view of the vast plains around the mountain as he blew out ring after ring of smoke until the sun was low in the west, coloring the clouds yellow like freshly whipped butter. He had missed afternoon tea but it didn’t really matter since he had missed many other meals throughout the journey. 

‘But the journey has come to an end,’ thought Bilbo.

Soon the dwarves from Ironhill would arrive and Erebor would start rebuilding. Their strong defense would stand up once more, their mines would be filled with workers, their halls alight with laughter and cheers, and the Lonely Mountain wouldn’t be so lonely anymore. There was nothing more he could do for the dwarves and soon, he had to go back to the Shire. 

‘To my own people,’ thought Bilbo. There was a bittersweet feeling to that thought, for he missed the Shire very dearly even while his heart longed for something else.

Bilbo sighed and stood up. Now was not the time to linger on conflicting thoughts, they had just succeeded in their quest! It was the time to rejoice and celebrate! So Bilbo pushed the thought to the back of his mind and went inside to find the others.The torches were lit on the walls and the air didn’t stink of dragon smoke so much anymore. He ran into Balin just outside the dining hall.

“Where are the others?” asked Bilbo and by ‘the others’ he meant Thorin.

Balin quirked an eyebrow at him before answering,

“I believe Glóin and Óin were inspecting and clearing air passages.”

Bilbo raised his brows; he was  _ sure  _ that Balin knew exactly what he meant.

“Ori has found the library and dragged Nori there with him. I believe Dori would be somewhere near them,” continued Balin.

Bilbo sighed. The white bearded dwarf did this on purpose, though Bilbo could only guess to what purpose beside his own amusement.

“Bombur and Bofur are in the kitchen, they said they could make our meagre provisions into something worth feasting.”

Balin was definitely smirking at him. Bilbo rolled his eyes, must he say it out loud that he was searching for Thorin in particular? It turned out that Bilbo didn’t have to because Balin finally said,

“Ah, but of course if you’re looking for  _ Thorin _ , he is in the treasury with my brother and the lads,” he finished with a self satisfied smile.

Bilbo gave Balin an indulgent smile for his antics, thanked him, and went on to the treasure hall. Once inside, he found that the torches on the wall were all lit and without the presence of the dragon, Bilbo finally took in the tremendousness of the hoard. Countless piles of precious things, gold wrought and unwrought, gems and jewels, and silver red-stained in the ruddy light. On the walls could be seen coats of mail, helms and axes, swords and spears hanging.

There Bilbo found the dwarf he was looking for. He and Dwalin were taking  down said mail and weapons from the walls. Thorin was already wearing one of the gleaming mail coats, replacing his worn and dented mails that he wore all along the journey; on his waist was a silver hafted axe in a belt crusted with scarlet stones. 

‘He looks very…’ Bilbo scrambled for words that could describe the staggering sight before settling on, ‘kingly.’

That was when Thorin noticed him.

“Bilbo!” he called, “What brings you here? Do you need something?”

The question made Bilbo stop dead.  _ Why _ did he come looking for Thorin in the first place? The thought never crossed Bilbo’s mind at all, he just went inside and looked for him like it was the most natural thing for him to do.

“You said...” Bilbo paused, uncertain, “that you’d see me later... earlier?”

Bilbo winced as he said it. It was a flimsy excuse at best but it was the first thing that came to mind. Despite that, Thorin smiled amusedly at him. A few seconds stretched and Dwalin cleared his throat.

“I’m going to look at the opposite wall, I think I spied a pair of knuckle dusters earlier,” said Dwalin. “And maybe you can show Mister Baggins his present,” he added with a nudge to Thorin’s waist.

“ _ Dlug _ _ udalâg _ ,” grunted Thorin.

Dwalin just snickered at him before he went away, whistling a tune wholeheartedly. Thorin shook his head at his friend’s back and turned his attention back to Bilbo who had become more and more uncomfortable during the exchange.

“I can go away, too, if you’re busy?” asked Bilbo.

.”No. Dwalin was right,” said Thorin, “I have something for you.”

“You really don't have to-” Bilbo tried to refuse but Thorin would have none of that.

“Take off your coat,” said Thorin, “and your waistcoat too.”

“Wha-” Bilbo spluttered. 

Did Thorin just ask him to  _ strip? _ In  _ public _ ? Bilbo wondered just what kind of present that Thorin had for him that needed him to take off his clothes.

“I think this would replace your waistcoat nicely.” Thorin held out a small shirt of mail.

_ Oh. _

Bilbo quickly discarded his coat and waistcoat. He was flushing slightly: for a moment there, his thoughts wandered into less than respectable territory. When he was down to his shirt and pants, he reached out his hand to take the shirt from Thorin.

Thorin bent down and gently put the mail coat on Bilbo. Bilbo took in a sharp breath, but stood still as Thorin adjusted the coat on his body. The metal shone like silver but much lighter and flowed like well woven silk. The coat felt warm through his shirt and Bilbo couldn’t help but wonder if its warmth originated from the broad hands that were holding it until moments ago.

“It was made from  _ sanzigil,”  _ Thorin informed him as he pulled back, “Men and elves called it mithril.”

Bilbo traced his hand on the delicately woven rings and let out a shuddering breath. Mithril was a very valuable metal, even more so after the dwarves lost Moria, the only known source of this metal ore. Bilbo suspected that this coat alone was more expensive than the entire Shire.

“I can’t receive something this valuable!” stuttered Bilbo.

Thorin chuckled and gestured to the entire room.

“Look at all these treasures! One-fourteenth of them is yours by right Bilbo, this is but a small token compared to that.”

“But-”

“Consider it as the first payment of your reward if you must,” added Thorin, “But I would be honoured if you accept this as a gift.”

And what else could Bilbo say if Thorin put it like that? Indeed nothing else but:

“Thank you for your gift,” Bilbo breathed out, “It is most extravagant.”

Thorin beamed at his words. Bilbo felt his heart stop at the sight of that smile, he never thought accepting a gift would warrant such reaction from the dwarf. 

“Mister Baggins…  _ Bilbo _ . Balin told me about the courting customs of your people and I would be most honoured if you consider this my first courting gift.” said Thorin sincerely.

“Thorin...I…” Bilbo stammered.

“I knew that the gift had to be handmade and I made this shirt myself a long time ago for my younger brother. I hope that this is still suitable?” Thorin asked, sensing Bilbo’s hesitation.

“Oh Thorin,” Bilbo sighed, “This is more than suitable and I will be most honoured to receive it. However, you must know that I couldn’t stay in Erebor? That soon enough I have to journey back to my people?”

“Aye,” said Thorin gravely, “I know better than most about the responsibility of a ruler. Nevertheless my heart belongs to you, Bilbo. Stay for as long or as short as you can and when you leave… When you leave please take this gift as a sign of my affection for you.”

With those bittersweet words of acceptance, all of Bilbo’s hesitations melted away.

“I gladly accept your gift, Thorin Oakenshield,” said Bilbo softly.

Thorin smiled so brightly at his answer that the treacherous part of his mind urged him to pull Thorin down and kiss those offending lips.

Suddenly a loud shout and a string of curses startled them, followed by two sets of laughter. Then Fíli and Kíli dashed past them, followed by an angry Dwalin.

“Congratulations, Bilbo!” said Kíli.

“We’ll see you at dinner!” said Fíli.

And they ran out of the hall into Valar-knows-where.

“I don’t care if they’re princes,” puffed Dwalin, “I will skin your nephews!”

It was all so bizarre and Bilbo felt a chuckle escape from his lips. Not too long after, the chuckle turned into a full blown laugh. Thorin looked at him, startled, before joining him in laughter. Bilbo laughed until his sides hurt and it felt  _ very _ good.

“I think I’ll put my clothes away,” said Bilbo after he composed himself.

Thorin smiled and gave him a small nod. “Before you go...may I kiss you?” asked Thorin.

Blibo blushed all the way to the tip of his pointy ears and gave a small nod. Thorin tilted Bilbo’s chin up and bent down to kiss him softly.

“I still have things to do here,” said Thorin as they pulled apart, “I’ll see you at dinner?”

Bilbo nodded, wore his coat back, picked up his waistcoat, and left the treasury with a light heart. He found his pack at the big hall with a hearth with the others’ packs, some already unpacked. Bilbo put his neatly folded waistcoat in his pack and went to join the others for dinner, forgetting that his magic ring was still inside its pocket.

If someone had told him he would find the dwarves’ feasting habits endearing five months ago when they were pillaging his pantry, Bilbo would have told them to check their head for a bump. But now here he was, sitting with thirteen dwarves eating and drinking and making merry in general. The food was good, the ale was better, but the best part was the songs and the laughter of the company.

Now, Bilbo already had a full pint of ale and was a little bit tipsy so he cheerfully complied when Bofur - who was already standing on the table two songs ago - pulled him up and said,

“Sing with me, Bilbo, I think you might know this one! I learned it when I was travelling on the Great Road.”

and started to sing:

_ “There is an inn, a merry old inn _

_ beneath an old grey hill, _

_ And there they brew a beer so brown _

_ That the Man in the Moon himself came down _

_ one night to drink his fill. _ ”

Bilbo did know the song! In fact, it was a ridiculous song he made up in his late tweens when he’d had one too many, so he sang the second verse with a little dance:

_ “The ostler has a tipsy cat _

_ that plays a five-stringed fiddle; _

_ And up and down he saws his bow _

_ Now squeaking high, now purring low, _

_ now sawing in the middle.” _

The dwarves cheered and clapped and stomped their feet with glee as Bilbo and Bofur sang the last verse on the top of their lungs:

_ “So the cat on the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle, _

_ a jig that would wake the dead: _

_ He squeaked and sawed and quickened the tune, _

_ While the landlord shook the Man in the Moon: _

_ ‘It’s after three!’ he said.” _

They finished the song with an exaggerated bow and were met with loud cheering and pealing laughter. Even Thorin chuckled lowly to his mug. And the feast continued into the night until all of them were ready to drop off with a smile on their face. That night, Bilbo slept soundly with a warm stomach and warmer heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khudzul translations:
> 
> Dlugudalâg = to go the furthest away. Basically "fuck off".
> 
> Dwalin was whistling a tune from a rowdy dwarven tavern song.  
> Khuzdeluh shândavai binganang zaharuh!  
> Khidu mahkhajimui-hi ghivâshuh!
> 
> Which means:  
> O, my dwarf of dwarves had agreed to stay in my home!  
> Now I shall shower him with treasures of mine!
> 
> Well the boys finally got their shit together. We also finally have overtaken the old version. Updates will come much slower after this. I can't give you update schedule because I'll just update as I finished a chapter! 
> 
> Please comments and tell me what you think!


	13. Chapter 12 - On The Precipice

The next morning at breakfast Balin had compiled a list of things that need to be done based on the reports given by the others. The most important thing was to fortify the main entrance and rebuild the road that led from it. They found plenty of tools left untouched since the dragon attacked, all in good condition too. Most of the company’s effort went there, Glóin was a skilled builder, Bofur and Nori was very handy with any kind of tools, Dwalin and Dori were pulled in to do the heavy lifting, and Bifur had nothing else he preferred doing. 

The rest of them had some general cleaning and reorganizing things to do. Ori immediately laid claim to the Great library, excited to sort through hundreds years’ worth of tomes. Bombur was immovable from the kitchen. Balin and Thorin who knew the insides of the mountain best would clean out the rubbles and put things back in order as much as they could before their kin arrived. Fíli and Kíli volunteered to help right away, hoping for more stories about their newly reclaimed home from Balin.

Bilbo, who neither had the skill nor strength to help with the building, can’t read Khuzdul to save his life, but hate to be idle, became somewhat an errand boy. Not the most fitting thing to do for the Baggins of course, but it was much better than doing nothing. So Bilbo ran back and forth throughout the mountain as the dwarves labored to restore their mountain. Sometimes he helped Bombur in the kitchen, sometimes he accompanied Ori in the library, and sometimes he fetched things for the builders. 

Four days had passed when the ravens came and told them that the elves had joined the men of Laketown and were marching towards the Mountain. This news made them wary because they didn’t know what the Elvenking’s intention was. 

“I want this Fortress made safe in three days. This Mountain was hard-won, I will not see it taken again.” ordered Thorin. 

So the dwarves worked faster so that they wouldn’t be defenseless with their gate wide open and prayed to Mahal that Dain’s army would arrive on time.

The next day Bombur asked Bilbo to take Thorin’s lunch to him because he didn’t come for them. Bilbo dashed off to the freshly refurbished living quarters, but Thorin was not there. They hadn’t got much time to spend with each other since Thorin had gifted him with the mithril coat, there had been too many things to do. Only at night they huddled close together, too exhausted from the work to trade more than a few soft words and kisses. Bilbo then went to the throne room and found Balin and the lads, gathering rubbles for the gate.

“Mister Balin, have you seen Thorin?” asked Bilbo.

“Haven’t seen him since breakfast,” answered Balin, then he turned to Fíli and Kíli, “Lads?”

Kíli shook his head,

“Didn’t see him when I took our lunch from Bombur.”

“This morning he said that he’s going to look for something...” Fíli hesitates, “...in the treasury.”

The three dwarves exchanged uneasy looks, but none of them said anything further. Bilbo raised an eyebrow in question.

“He might just lose track of time,” sighed Balin, “It would be best if you go and find him now, Mister Baggins.”

Bilbo would like to know what those looks were about, but an uneasy feeling uncoiled in his stomach so he nodded at Balin and rushed to find Thorin. True to Fíli’s word Bilbo found Thorin in the treasury, sorting through the sea of gold looking for something.

“Gold. Gold beyond measure, beyond sorrow and grieve.” Bilbo heard Thorin mumbled to himself.

“Thorin?” called Bilbo, dread crept up in his heart.

Thorin looked around, his eyes fell on Bilbo and he smiled.

“Bilbo! What brought you here?”

“You didn’t come for lunch, so I bring lunch to you,” shrugged Bilbo, holding up the package that he got from Bombur.

A flicker of surprise flashed on Thorin's eyes before he frowned,

“Is it noon already? I must have lost track of time, I planned just to stop by for a moment after breakfast to find something…”

Bilbo watched worriedly when Thorin lost trail of his words as he cast a searching look around the treasury.

“Thorin, it’s already half past three.”

Thorin turned around to face Bilbo so fast as if he was whipped, mouth slightly agape. The few seconds of silence that follows was almost painful. Then Thorin closed his jaw with an audible click,

“A-as I said, I lost track of time.” said Thorin quickly.

Something akin to warning bells blares inside Bilbo. He wasn’t sure what was wrong, but he was sure there was _something_ going on with Thorin. 

“Why don’t you step out and have a nice bit of lunch outside?” suggested Bilbo carefully.

“I- aye,” sighed Thorin, “That sounds most agreeable.”

Bilbo smiled tentatively and waited by the door until Thorin exited the treasury. Bilbo closed the door behind them and they walked side by side to the Front Gate. When they reached the gate they saw that the dwarves were busy working and the gate was coming along nicely. They found a place to sit where Bilbo can feel the brisk autumn wind and slowly dug into their meal as they converse lightly,

“What were you searching for in the treasury?” Bilbo asked.

“I was looking for the Arkenstone,” said Thorin gravely, “The seven dwarven armies swore that oath to the one who wields the King’s jewel, the Arkenstone. It is the only thing that will unite them, and I’m afraid that it is the only way we can defend the mountain from elves and men.”

Bilbo pondered this for a while for he doubted that the armies could be roused on time to help them when the men and elves were on their doorstep. The _threat_ of seven armies however…

“I fear for you there by yourself.” Bilbo voiced out his main concern. Fíli’s words about the sickness of King Thrór are heavy in his mind.

“I’m not my grandfather,” huffed Thorin, “But if it will ease your mind _Amrâlimê_ , I shall have the lads with me.”

Bilbo smiled at Thorin, “Thank you, for humoring this silly hobbit.”

The next day Bilbo was again sent with a pack of cram to Thorin. Before he found Thorin, he was waylaid by Fíli and Kíli. The brothers all but dragged Bilbo into a quiet corner with worried expressions on their faces,

“What is bothering you boys?” Bilbo asked.

“Well you see…” said Kíli.

“Uncle has asked us to search for the Arkenstone…” said Fíli.

“Yes, he mentioned that yesterday. Did you find it?” said Bilbo.

“No we didn't. We found a chest of white gems instead.” answered Kíli.

“It was set with dwarven craftsmanship but the gems itself was not dwarfish in nature. I’m sure of it.” said Fíli. 

“We suspect that it might be the white gems of Lasgalen.” said Kíli.

“White gems of Lagaslen?” Bilbo asked.

“From the stories we heard, Thranduil handed the gems to King Thrór, to be fashioned into a set of jewellery. for the Elvenqueen of Mirkwood.” Fíli explained.

“However for one reason or another… and we have heard many different reasons…” said Kíli.

“Some said the Elvenking refused to pay the agreed price.” offered Fíli.

“Others said that King Thrór desired the gems for himself…” replied Kíli.

“Anyway, for one reason or another King Thrór refused to hand over the finished product. It is said that what caused the relations between Erebor and the Woodland Elves became sour. “ Fíli finished their explanations.

“Well that might explain why the elves rallied!” said Bilbo, “It is a very good find! They might go in peace if we returned the gems to them!”

“Well…” Fíli hesitated.

“We thought so too…” continued Kíli as hesitantly.

Bilbo had a feeling what had happened when they voiced their opinions to Thorin inside the treasury.

“What did your uncle say?” Blibo sighed.

“He said that he would shatter each gem by his own hand before he saw it in the hands of Thranduil.” said Fíli worriedly.

“He also said that Thranduil can go _ishkh khakfe andu null.”_ Kíli grinned cheekily.

Fíli elbowed his brother hard.

“Would you reason with him?” he asked Bilbo.

Bilbo rubbed his temple exasperatedly,

“I do not know if my words will sway your uncle, but I shall try to talk to him.”

“Thank you Bilbo!” said the brothers as one.

Bilbo left the two dwarves and hurried to the treasury. All the way he turned his mind on what he would say to Thorin. When he got there, he found Thorin in a similar state as yesterday.

“It is here in these halls, I know it.” grumbled Thorin.

“Thorin!” Bilbo called out.

Thorin looked up at Bilbo. However before Bilbo could say another word Dwalin came rushing into the room,

“Men! And Elves! they’re streaming into Dale. There’s hundreds of them!” said Dwalin.

Thorin face hardened at the news,

“Call everyone to the gate!” he ordered, “To the gate now!”

The gate was now blocked with a wall of squared stones laid dry, but very thick and high, across the opening. There were holes in the wall through which they could see (or shoot), but no entrance. Approach to the Gate was now only possible along a narrow ledge of the cliff. They climbed up to look over the stone walls and see Thranduil’s army of Elves over in Dale.

That night the dwarves slept little. The morning was still pale when they saw a lone rider approaching. From behind their wall they watched him come up to the valley’s head and climb slowly up. Before long they could see that it was Bard, who was said to have slain the dragon.

“Hail Thorin, son of Thráin. We are glad to find you alive beyond hope!” hailed Bard, “Why does the King under the Mountain fence himself in like a robber in his hole?”

“Perhaps it is because I’m expecting to be robbed.” Thorin sneered.

“My Lord, we have not come to rob you, but to seek fair settlement.” said Bard, “On behalf of the people of Lake-town, I ask that you honor your pledge. A share of the treasure, so that they might rebuild their lives. In his last battle Smaug destroyed the dwellings of the men of Esgaroth. I would speak for them and ask whether you have no thought for the sorrow and misery of our people. We aided you in your distress, and in recompense you have thus far brought ruin only, though doubtless undesigned.”

Now these were fair words and true, if proudly and grimly spoken; and Bilbo hoped that Thorin would at once admit what justice was in them.

“The price of the goods and the assistance that we received of the Lake-men we will fairly pay… in due time. But nothing will we give, not even a loaf’s worth, under threat of force. While an armed host lies before our doors, we look on you as foes and thieves!” roared Thorin.

“That armed host will attack this mountain if we do not come to terms. You gave us your word, My Lord. Does that mean nothing?” the man pleaded.

“I will not parley, as I have said, with armed men at my gate. Nor at all with the people of the Elvenking, whom I remember with small kindness. In this debate they have no place. Begone now ere our arrows fly!” Thorin declared.

Bard turned away in anger, the company watched him riding away in trepidation.

“Thorin,” Bilbo broke the silence, “What does he mean by ‘you gave your words’? What did you pledge to them?”

“This does not concern you.” dismissed Thorin.

“My King,” said Balin, “You pledged a share of the treasure to the men of Lake-town in exchange for shelter and medicine for Mister Baggins. We were all there, The pledge was made on all of our honor!”

“Please uncle,” Fíli pleaded, “The people of Lake-town have nothing. They came to us in need. They have lost everything.”

“He had _slain_ the dragon!” cried Kíli.

“This gold is ours, and ours alone. I will not part with a single coin!” Thorin bellowed.

“You can give them my share!” Bilbo offered, “You pledged partly for my health and I have no use for that much gold!”

Thorin narrowed his eyes,

“If you don’t want your share then it’ll be divided equally among the rest of the company,” said Thorin, “I’d rather die before I saw my grandfather’s gold on the hand of men and _elves.”_

With that, Thorin stormed off. Bilbo swiftly followed Thorin hoping that he could somehow change Thorin’s mind. Bilbo felt despair as he saw that Thorin was going back to the treasury.

“Thorin please!” he cried.

“Bilbo!” Thorin grabbed Bilbo’s arm with a crazed look in his eyes, “I have been blind, but now I’m beginning to see. I am betrayed!”

“B-betrayed?”

“The Arkenstone, one of them has taken it. One of them is false. Betrayed by my own kin! And they will plunder this mountain for men and elves!” Thorin was enraged again. 

He let Bilbo go, muttering angrily as he wandered into the sea of gold. Bilbo was very shaken, yet he followed Thorin desperately. He was so bothered that he didn’t notice where he stepped and he tripped. He fell down. Thorin didn’t even flinched, already busy digging around the mountains of gold. A pile of gold crumbled and fell upon him. Bilbo winced, gold and gems weren’t exactly soft.

He was about to go away when a twinkle of light caught his eyes. There near his left foot a jewel shone of its own inner light, and yet, cut and fashioned by the dwarves. It took all light that fell upon it and-changes it into ten thousand sparks of white radiance shot with glints of the rainbow. Bilbo realized what he had found, the Arkenstone, the heart of the mountain.

‘And also the heart of Thorin,’ thought Bilbo mournfully.

Bilbo picked it up. His small hand would not close about it for it was a large and heavy gem. Hatred welled inside him. He wanted to break the precious gem into a million pieces and throw it down the deepest mine shaft where it had come from. But he reigned in his temper because maybe Thorin would listen to him _now_ and he could use it to save all of them from unnecessary battle.

“Thorin,” called Bilbo

Thorin ignored him.

“Thorin,” called Bilbo again.

“What else do you want!?”

Thorin turned around furiously but stopped dead when he saw what Bilbo was holding. Bilbo watched painfully as Thorin’s eyes clouded with lust and desire.

“The Arkenstone,” he breathed.

Bilbo nodded minutely, but Thorin’s eyes were fixed to the gem on his hands.

“Give it to me,” rasped Thorin.

“No.” said Bilbo with resolve, “I shall hand this to you if you parley with the men and elves. O-or I shall claim this as my share of the treasure.”

Thorin looked so brokenhearted by Bilbo’s word that he almost couldn’t bear it.

“You too Bilbo? Why would you betray me for them?”

“I didn’t do it for them.” answered Bilbo, “I’m trying to save us from war! I will not stand to see our companions slain in causeless war! They are your _people! They risked their life for you!”_

“Enough! I will hear no more deceit from you! Thief!” exclaimed Thorin.

“You are changed, Thorin.” said Bilbo sadly, “The Dwarf I know would never have gone back on his word, would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin.”

Thorin was overcome with fury, he grasped Bilbo with both hands and shook him like a poor rabbit.

“Uncle no!” Fíli entered the room and tried to stop Thorin.

Thorin dropped Bilbo and shoved Fíli to the side. He unsheathed his blade and stalked towards Bilbo menacingly.

“You dare to steal from me! You shall pay for this!”

Bilbo lay frozen atop the sea of gold, he was overcome with fear. He flinched when Thorin lifted him by the collar of his coat and levelled his blade to his throat. Bilbo heard the others plead Thorin for his life but it fell on deaf ears. Tears fell from Bilbo’s eyes and he reached for one of Thorin’s braids.

“I love you, Thorin Oakenshield.” Bilbo whispered, “And I could not see you slain over gold.”

Thorin froze. A shroud was lifted from his eyes, the spell of gold was broken. He dropped his sword with a clatter and let Bilbo down with shaky hands.

“What have I done?” Thorin breathed out.

“T-thorin?” called Bilbo hesistanly.

_“Bilbo.”_ Thorin eveloped Bilbo in an embrace, “I promised to protect you, Bilbo Baggins. But I never expected that the harm would come from my own hand. Would you ever forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive. You were not yourself.” said Bilbo in great relief.

“Uncle?” Fíli stepped closer.

Thorin let Bilbo go and pulled Fíli into another hug, _“Birashagammi, irakdashatimê.”_

Kíli shifted awkwardly next to them before Fíli pulled his brother into their uncle’s embrace as well. The heavy air was lifted from the room and all of the dwarves cheered.

“Ahem,” Dwalin cleared his throat, “Your orders my king?”

Thorin detangled himself from his nephew and addressed the company.

“Tomorrow we shall parley.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the power of looooooveeeeee~
> 
> Okay sorry. 
> 
> Here's some more Khudzul translations!  
> Amrâlimê = my love  
> ishkh khakfe andu null = to excrete on the faces of your ancestors  
> Birashagammi, irakdashatimê. = I'm sorry, my nephew
> 
> Next up! Battle of the Five Armies...which I really really dread to write. Wish me luck!


	14. Chapter 13 - The Battle of The Five Armies

Next day the company woke up early to prepare for the parley. They put on the best armour they can find and armed themselves to the teeth. Bilbo had to admit that the company looked very fierce.

“Our number might be small, but we will not look weak in front of the elves.” said Thorin.

One by one they climbed out of the mountain at dawn. They stood proudly in a line, proud sentinels under the shadow of Erebor. Not long after, they heard a loud trumpet sound. The company was very astonished at the trumpet call for it wasn’t the sound of an elvish horn, this trumpet call is unmistakably  _ dwarven _ .

“Ah, they made it in time after all!” said Balin.

Thirteen heads turned to Balin in question.

“Last night I sent a message by Roäc telling Dain of what had passed, and bidding him come with wary speed,” explained Balin, “Though it is a peaceful parley the King should not meet an army without his own on his back.”

At this Thorin barked a laugh.

“Balin _ bâhumê,” _ he said,  _ “targ menu bundul gazaru!” _

So came the army from the eastern spurn of the mountain as the sun rose on their back. Each one was clad in a hauberk of steel mail that hung to their knees, and their legs were covered with hose of a fine and flexible metal mesh. They wielded heavy two-handed mattocks; but each of them had also a short broad sword at his side and a roundshield slung at his back. Their beards were forked and plaited and thrust into their belts. Their caps were of iron and their faces were grim. The lord of Iron Hills, Dain son of Nain rode on a massive ram ahead of the army.

_ “Shamukh Thorin Thráinul! Uzband undu ‘Urd!” _ (Hail Thorin son of Thráin! King Under the Mountain!) hailed Dain as the army stopped before them. 

“ Dain! _ Idmi d’Urd!” _ replied Thorin.

Dain dismounted his ram and embraced Thorin. They clashed their forehead in greetings and laughed.

“Just how did you pass by Dale unmarked?” Thorin asked.

“We marched by the northside in the night. Mahal blessings on us for there was a big commotion in Dale that allowed us to pass by unnoticed by men or elves!” answered Dain.

Dain’s arrival brought great cheer to everyone for he brought packs upon packs of provisions with him. The dwarves swiftly secured the packs inside the mountain and arranged themselves. It was a striking view that greeted the men and elves when they marched to the gate of Erebor. Thorin and Dain on massive battle rams flanked by the members of the company. The dwarven army stood behind them, an impenetrable wall before the front gate. Bilbo stood by Thorin’s side, feeling somewhat out of place.

The men and the elves halted in front of the dwarven hosts. Silence fell as the opposing forces gaged each other.

“Hail Thorin Oakenshiled, son of Thráin, son of Thrór!” exclaimed Bard, “In the name of Esgaroth we bid him to consider well the claims that have been urged, or be declared our foe. If the King Under the Mountain would have the friendship and honour of the lands about, as his sires had of old, then he should consider the need of the men of the Lake.”

“You speak of honour and friendship, yet you lead an army to my doorstep.” replied Thorin, “As I have declared before, your share will be paid in due time! A dragon does not care for order so it shall take time before we can sort out anyone’s share.”

Cries of dismay were heard from the men. For great is their need and they fear for their survival before the payment could be made. 

“However!” Thorin continued over the noise, “Bard, heir of Girion Lord of Dale,  _ Dragonslayer!  _ You have done us a great deed when you slain Smaug the Terrible! For this deed, I shall offer you a gift of  _ friendship and honour _ .”

On cue, Dwalin and Dori came forth and placed two massive chests before Bard. They opened the chests and one was full of gold coins, the other full of silver coins. They gleamed in the light of the morning sun. Bard looked at the coins in astonishment.

“Do we have peace, Bard Dragonslayer?” asked Thorin.

“Aye. We have peace, King Under the Mountain.” Bard answered grimly.

The men cheered, “Hail to the King Under the Mountain! Hail to King Bard!” they shouted. 

Thorin waited until the cheers quieted down before he turned to the elves.

“Thranduil,  _ Elvenking _ ,” Thorin sneered, “You did not aid us when we were displaced by the dragon. You have imprisoned my company on our way to reclaim the mountain. You have done  _ nothing _ for us. So  _ where is your place in this bargain?” _

The dwarves broke out in jeers and sneers for the Elvenking. Thranduil was dismayed but he would not be dissuaded.

“There are heirlooms of my people in the mountain and I shall have it!” said Thranduil.

“It is in my mind to ask what share of their inheritance you would have paid to our kindred, had you found the hoard unguarded and us slain. Or did you think to slay us yourselves because we were pale in numbers?” said Thorin, “This I say unto you Elvenking,  _ we owe you nothing! _ ”

The dwarves’ jeers became very loud and they clapped their mattocks on the ground menacingly. Thorin let it go on for a while before he held up his hand to quiet them.

“I shall see Erebor back to its former glory,” said Thorin, “and I have been counseled about the hardship that my people will face if we must rebuild while warring with our neighbour. Because of that I offer you this gift in  _ alliance. _ ”

Bifur came forth and laid down a chest before the Elvenking. He opened the chest and showed Thranduil the white gems of pure starlight. Thranduil was struck silent for Thorin had practically  _ extorted _ his alliance in exchange for the gems.

“Will the Woodland Realm stand by Erebor as an ally?” demanded Thorin.

“The Woodland Realm will be allied to Erebor.” Thranduil finally answered. “I thank you, Thorin son of Thráin and your wise counsellor for this gift.”

“You can thank him yourself.” said Thorin, “I present to you, Bilbo Baggins of The Shire, Leader of all Hobbitfolk, slayer of Azog the Pale Orc, fourteenth member of the company of Thorin Oakenshield!”

Bilbo was very surprised. Thorin had made no mention of this when they planned out the parley last night. He flushed as he found himself became the center of attention in the valley. 

“So you’re the one who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards.” said Thranduil.

“Yes. Sorry about that.” Bilbo answered nonchalantly.

Thranduil’s laugh rang out in the valley like silver bells,

“I thank you Bilbo  _ Padholen _ \- he who walks unseen - for the return of my people’s heirlooms and I name you elf-friend!”

The valley cheered for Bilbo. Bilbo glanced at Thorin, he did not look too pleased at Thranduil’s declaration but said nothing. So Bilbo straightened his shoulder and received it with grace.

Suddenly a lone rider broke through the ranks of elves, it was Gandalf on a grey horse. He burst into the middle of the gathering and said,

“It is to my fortune that all of you are gathered here, and ready for battle too! War is coming. The cesspits of Dol Guldur have been emptied. You’re all in mortal danger.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Bard.

“Armies of orcs are on the move. These are fighters, they have been bred for war. Our enemy has summoned his full strength.” Gandalf answered.

“Why show his hand now?” said Thranduil.

“Because we forced him when the company of Thorin Oakenshield set out to reclaim their homeland.” said Gandalf gravely, “The Dwarves were never meant to reach Erebor, Azog the Defiler was sent to kill them. His master seeks control of the Mountain, not just for the treasure within, but for where it lies.”

“But the Pale Orc had been slain!” said Thorin.

“His son Bolg led the orcs, he seeks vengeance. The Wargs of Gundabad is also under his command!” exclaimed Gandalf.

Sure enough a terrible battle horn echoed down the valley. Before their eyes, The orcs poured down in rage into the valley, driving wildly up between the arms of the Mountain, seeking for the foe. Their banners were countless, black and red, and they came on like a tide in fury and disorder. 

The elves swiftly turned around, closed their ranks, and thrusted their spears out. The men readied their long swords on the flank.

_ “Lacho calad!” _ Thranduil ordered. The elves lighted their arrows on fire.

_ “Tangado a chadad!” _ He issued another order. The elves drew their bows as one.

_ “Leithio i philinn!”  _

A shower of arrows rained down on the enemy, and each flickered as it fled as if with stinging fire. Behind the arrows a thousand of their spearmen leapt down and charged. The yells were deafening. The rocks were stained black with goblin blood.

Before the orcs can recover from the onslaught, the elf-charge parted. Out pour the dwarven army with Thorin and Dain riding in front of them.

_ “Ihgirî ni-hun! Yanâd Durinul!”  _ rallied Thorin.

Bilbo joined in the dwarves’ battle cry as he went charging with them.

“Khazâd! Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!!!”

The dwarves descended with such might that panic came upon the orcs. As they turned to meet this new attack, the elves charged again and beside them came the men of the Lake with long swords. Bilbo slashed and stabbed at the foe with determination, the company beside him slaughtering many orcs that stood in their way. Victory seemed at hand, when a cry rang out.

A horde of Wargs came ravening and with them came Bolg, an orc of huge size with a mace of steel. Victory now vanished from hope. They had only stemmed the first onslaught of the black tide. 

“Fall back! Fall back! Back to the Mountain! Fall back!” the order rang out. The three armies retreated and reformed their ranks in front of the gate.

“There’s too many of these buggers, Thorin. I hope you’ve got a plan.” said Dain.

“Aye, we’re going to take out their leader,” said Thorin. 

He turned to the dwarven army and addressed them, “We are sons of Durin, and Durin’s folk do not flee from a fight! I have no right to ask this of any of you, but will you follow me, one last time?”

Thorin’s words roused the dwarves spirits greatly and they all answered him,

_ “ _ _ Du-bekâr!”  _

“To the King! To the King! Rally to the King!” Dain’s voice shook like a horn in the valley.

Onward they charge again! Thorin was on the lead, followed by Bilbo and the company. Behind them Dain led the dwarves, Bard led the men, and Thranduil led the elves. Once again the orcs were stricken in the valley, the Wargs were scattered and Thorin drove right against Bolg. They left behind them among the orc corpses, lay many men and many dwarves, and many a fair elf that should have lived yet long ages merrily in the wood.

However their numbers were too few. Soon the attackers were attacked, and they were forced into a great ring, facing every way. Bilbo was right in the middle of it, slaughtering one orcs after another as Thorin battled Bolg in the middle of the circle. Fíli jumped in to help his uncle and soon the tide seemed to turn against Bolg.

Stab. Slice. Bilbo was standing his ground when he heard Thorin’s voice,

“FILI!”

Bilbo looked over and saw that Bolg had swept Fíli aside with his mace. Kíli rushed after his brother. Thorin let out a roar, he leapt and thrusted his sword upwards against Bolg’s chin. Bolg staggered and fell forward pinning Thorin beneath him.

“THORIN!” Bilbo rushed to him. He tried to move Bolg’s lifeless corpse to no avail. Dori and Bifur appeared next to him, together the three of them managed to roll the massive orc away from Thorin. Bilbo saw that Thorin was bleeding heavily from his left side, one of the spikes from Bolg’s armour pierced him when the orc fell on him.

“Thorin! Thorin!” Bilbo knelt down beside him. He took off his coat and pressed it to Thorin’s wound.

“B-bilbo,” Thorin breathed out, “F-fili?”

Bilbo looked around for Fíli and saw that the young dwarf was lying on the ground, unmoving. Kíli stood before his prone body, still battling away. Out of nowhere a black arrow came and struck Kíli on the shoulder, Kíli staggered and fell down beside his brother. The enemies are closing in. Bilbo tore his eyes away and looked at Thorin, he could not bring himself to answer his question but it seemed that the look on his face was enough to answer it.

_ “Irakdashatumê...” _ Thorin whispered brokenly, “I-I have failed them..”

“They may yet live Thorin!” said Bilbo desperately, even though he didn’t believe it himself.

“B-bilbo  _ Umralumê,” _ rasped Thorin, “I’m glad you’re here. Forgive me for our time is s-short and full of perils.”

“I’m glad to have shared in your perils, Thorin.” Bilbo sobbed, “Each and every one of them. It is far more than any Baggins deserves.”

“I love you, Bilbo Baggins.” Thorin breathed out and closed his eyes.

“No, no, no, no! No! Thorin! Thorin, don’t you dare…” 

Bilbo put his hand on Thorin’s chest. He was breathing very weakly. Suddenly a massive shadow passed over them and Bilbo heard a mighty screech. Bilbo felt the pressure of the battle eased up and he looked up to see that the Eagles had come to aid them!

“Thorin? Thorin please, please hold on. You hold on for me. The Eagles are here Thorin. The Eagles…”

Bilbo wept on Thorin’s chest as his breathing became weaker and weaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo! This is probably one of the most challenging chapter that I've ever written! There's a lot I want to say about this chapter.
> 
> First thing first, translations!  
> Khuzdul:  
> Balin bâhumê, targ menu bundul gazaru! = Balin my friend, your beard speaks of your wisdom!  
> Shamukh Thorin Thrainul! Uzband undu ‘Urd! = Hail Thorin son of Thrain! King Under the Mountain!  
> Dain! Idmi d’Urd! = Dain! Welcome to the mountain/Erebor  
> Ihgirî ni-hun! Yanâd Durinul! = To battle! Sons of Durin!  
> Khazâd! Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!!! = Dwarves! Dwarves! The Dwarves are upon you!!!  
> Du-bekâr! = To arms!  
> Irakdashatumê = my nephews (plural)  
> Umralumê = my dear friend/my lover
> 
> Sindarin:  
> Padholen = he who walks unseen  
> Lacho calad! = Light fire!  
> Tangado a chadad! = Prepare to fire!  
> Leithio i philinn! = Fire the arrows!
> 
> Next, forgive me for the hand-wavey explanation on why Dain can get to Erebor undetected. I really really want the parley to happen on somewhat of an equal ground. Regarding the 'big commotion in Dale'... It could be whatever you want! Did the men elected Bard as King? Did Thranduil brought wine and everybody got drunk? It is up to you!
> 
> Third, it's on the short side and I really hope it doesn't feel too rushed. This chapter is also Thorin-heavy, I hope I did him justice.
> 
> Lastly, this is unbeta-ed so please feel free to point out any mistakes you find!
> 
> Please don't hate me for what I've done to our boys...*hides*


	15. Chapter 14 - The Vigil of Bilbo Baggins

Bilbo wept until his eyes were red and his voice was hoarse. He did not know how long he knelt beside Thorin in the middle of the battlefield before Dwalin put his hand on his shoulder and pulled him up.

“Come lad,” said Dwalin.” The Eagles had broken the enemies’ rank. We must get them to the mountain.”

Bilbo stood up and wiped his eyes and stood up. He saw that the company had made a ring around them, protecting them from the onslaught. The dwarves quickly arranged themselves. Dori, the strongest of them all, would be carrying Thorin. Bifur would be carrying Fíli and Bombur would be carrying Kíli. Dwalin and Balin would lead the group, Nori and Ori would be guiding one side, Bilbo and Bofur the other, and Glóin would bring up the rear.

That being decided, once again they went into the fray. Bilbo slashed and stabbed at the enemies who tried to break their rank, the ground was slick with blood of their foes and allies beneath his barefoot. At one point, Bilbo slipped when he defended himself from a warg. His head struck the ground hard and his ears were ringing. Thankfully, Bofur knocked the warg away with his trusty mattock before it could do any more damage to Bilbo.

“Come on!” said Bofur, “We’re nearly there!”

The front gate was a welcome sight to them. Bilbo saw that the squared stones had been torn away from the gate, a line of Dain’s soldiers guarding the entrance.

“Make way!” said Balin, “Make way for the King!”

The guards immediately parted and let them in. In the front hall laid many injured bodies of dwarves, men, and elves.

“Óin! ÓIN!” Glóin called, for Óin had been sent back to the mountain before the second rally to tend to the injured. Óin quickly left his patient to another dwarf and came to them.

“Let’s put them somewhere else!” Óin led them into a small chamber next to the front hall.

Three small cots were quickly set up and they laid Thorin and his nephews down. Bilbo rested his back on a corner and slumped down, the rush of the battle has left him. Bilbo watched numbly as the dwarves stripped Thorin’s armour away.

“Mahal helps us!” said Óin as he saw Thorin’s sluggishly bleeding side, “He had lost too much blood.”

Óin barked orders for supplies and soon a basin of foul smelling liquid was brought to him. Óin meticulously cleaned Thorin’s wound until at last he said,

“That’s as clean as I can make it, let us hope it does not fester. Dori come! Let’s see if you can sew up the King better than your tapestries!”

Dori quickly went to work, closing Thorin’s wound with neat little stitches. Óin then turned to Fíli and examined him.

“His chest had been crushed,” said Óin in a strained voice, “There’s not much we can do for him except to bind his chest and prop him up so he would not choke in his own blood.”

Óin instructed Ori and Bifur to tend to Fíli and he went to Kíli. The arrow that struck him was poisoned, dark sludge mixed with red bled out from it. Óin barked more orders, another basin was brought to him, he cleaned Kíli’s wound and slathered a thick paste on it. 

From the corner of his eyes Bilbo saw Balin, Dwalin, and Glóin quarreling with each other. Balin had lost half of his beard, Dwalin had a massive gash that ran from his forehead down to his chin, and Glóin had a shallow claw mark on his back.

“You are not going back out there!” yelled Dwalin.

“If I’m not, then neither are you!” yelled Glóin back.

Óin finished putting on a bandage on Kíli and kicked them out.

“If you still can stand. Go make yourself useful!” he said.

Bilbo tried to stand, but he felt sick and his legs were like straws. He gave it a few tries before he managed to stand shakily. He hadn't turned his eyes away from Thorin, Dori had finished stitching him up and the wound had been neatly bandaged. Bilbo didn't even notice Óin until the dwarf was right in front of him.

“Let me have a look at you, Laddie,” said Óin.

“I-i’m fine,” Bilbo stammered out, “T-the mail s-shirt..”

“The mail shirt may have protected you from being pierced, but it also may hide other hurts” said Óin as he went to remove it from Bilbo. The mail shirt joined Thorin's rent armour on the floor. Óin then proceeded to poke and prod at him, Bilbo winced in pain when Óin touched a spot on his head.

“You’ve got a nasty knock to the head, Lad.” said Óin, “Not to mention all of the other bruises on your body.”

Bilbo looked down and he saw that his chest and stomach was littered with large purple bruises. Óin ushered him to a small chair between Thorin’s and Fíli’s cots.

“Sit.” ordered Óin, “You shouldn’t be walking around just yet. I’ll bring something for your wounds.”

“Is T-thorin...and t-the boys…” said Bilbo with a shaky voice, “W-will they live?”

“I have done all I can do for them,” said Óin gravely, “Now we pray to Mahal.”

At that, Óin left him to fetch his supplies. Bilbo scooted his chair closer to Thorin, he ran his hand through Thorin’s matted hair and down to his frayed braids. Fresh tears fell from Bilbo’s eyes, and he was now weary of his adventure. He was aching in his bones for the Shire, for the peaceful land and the peaceful people, untouched by the horrors of terrible battle. But his heart was here, lying still, fighting for his life.

“Don’t you leave me, Thorin Oakenshield. Don’t you dare.” whispered Bilbo.

Óin came back not long after that. He washed Bilbo’s head with warm water and put a thick salve on his bump. He slathered more salve on Bilbo’s body before wrapping him loosely with soft bandages. He handed Bilbo a plain loose shirt and Bilbo carefully put it on. A blanket was draped on his shoulder and a steaming mug was handed to him.

“Drink.” said Óin, “It will make you feel better.”

Bilbo carefully sipped the liquid, it tasted as awful as any other Óin’s concoction but Bilbo slowly drank it anyway. Óin took the mug from Bilbo once he finished his drink, he left again for there were many other injured bodies that needed his attention. After a while Bilbo’s head cleared a little, he huddled into the warm blanket and offered a prayer to the Valar for the swift end to the battle.

Later, Bilbo learned that the tide of the battle was greatly turned with the arrival of the Eagles. They dislodged the goblins from the mountain-slopes, casting them over precipices, or driving them down shrieking and bewildered among their foes. Beorn himself had appeared, he came in bear’s shape and with him many of his bear friends. They fell upon the enemy’s rear and they tossed wargs and orcs from their path like straws and feathers.

Then dismay fell on the enemy forces and they fled in all directions. But they were pursued closely, and prevented from escaping where they could. Victory had been assured before the fall of night, but the pursuit was still on foot late into the night.

The next morning Bilbo heard a loud echoing trumpet sound, the Battle of the Five Armies was over. Not one living foe was left in the valley of Erebor. All were slain save those who fled to die or to drown in the Running River. But all was deadly still. There was no call and no echo of a song. Sorrow seemed to be in the air.

“Victory after all, Thorin,” Bilbo said to the unconscious dwarf, “But oh! How hollow it was without you my dear.”

No answer came from the dwarf. 

The day passed and the members of the company came trickling in and out of the room bringing news and checking on their King and his heirs. Bilbo took stock of his companion, so few unharmed amongst all of them. 

Dwalin would lose his left eye, his gash had run deeper than Bilbo first thought. Balin will never walk without a limp again, he had caught an orc’s club on his left knee. Glóin would be left with a scar from the warg’s claw, he was unbothered by it and had boasted on how impressive his battle scar would be. Dori had a deep cut running from his left shoulder to his elbow, Nori had broken his right arm, and young Ori had escaped with just a few bruises and scrapes. Bofur arrived with heavy bandages around his head but somehow hadn’t lost his hat, Bombur had lost his braided beard but otherwise unharmed, and Bifur had lost the axe on his head but remained unchanged.

Some of them had tried to coax Bilbo from Thorin’s bedside but Bilbo was unmoved. They brought to him food to eat and wine to drink but all tasted like ash in his mouth.

On the second day after the battle was won, Dain came to the chamber. He was clad in the soft blue clothes of Durin’s line. Without his armour Bilbo can see his fiery red hair and beard, both braided in intricate patterns. He had a bushy eyebrows and underneath them, the same blue eyes that Thorin had.

“Dain son of Nain, at your service.” the dwarf introduced himself.

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours and your family.” Bilbo replied.

“If the stories I heard were true, you have done many great services for my family Mister Baggins.” said Dain.

“I’m sure they were exaggerating.” said Bilbo humbly.

“Dwalin is not one prone to exaggeration,” huffed Dain, “I must say, you are not what I expected.”

Bilbo smiled sadly at Dain’s words.

“Another dwarf told me that not so long ago.” said Bilbo softly.

They both turned to Thorin. Thorin was laying still and unmoving, the only sign that he was still alive was the fluttering of his beard as he breathed.

“The Eagles left this morning, one of them asked after you Mister Baggins” said Dain, still looking at Thorin, “Balin assured him of your well-being and we sent them on their way with gifts of gold and friendship.”

Thorin was silent; all that they could hear was Fíli's rattling and belaboured breath.

“We will be holding a council with Bard and Thranduil later today. Balin and I are doing our best but…” Dain’s voice broke, “We need you cousin, the mountain needs you.”

Bilbo’s heart was moved by Dain’s word. He reached out his hand and touched Dain’s arm.

“I haven’t known Thorin for as long as you did. But I’d like to think that he will approve of what you’ve done.” Bilbo offered in comfort.

“Thank you for your kind words Mister Baggins.” Dain smiled at Bilbo, “You are welcome to the council if you so wish. After all my cousin had called you his counsellor.”

“I think you and Balin would do fine without me Lord Dain,” Bilbo refused gently.

Dain left soon after that, he had to prepare for the council. Later that day Ori came to the chamber to update Bilbo about the result of the council. The dwarves would honour the deal with Bard on Thorin’s behalf and they would talk with the elves about a treaty once Thorin awakened. _If_ he woke up at all.

On the third day, Thranduil himself came to the chamber with Óin, two elves followed him. One of them is a male elf with golder hair and the other is a female elf with red hair, both of them were clad in greens and browns. Bilbo vaguely remembered them from his time in the halls of the Elevenking.

“Mister Baggins.” Thranduil nodded in greeting.

“King Thranduil.” Bilbo nodded back.

Thranduil waved his companions to check on Fíli and Kíli. Then he watched as Óin undid Thorin’s bandages. The elf-king put his palm on Thorin’s wound and Bilbo saw a glow coming out of his hand and into the wound, then he stepped aside and let Óin clean and redressed Thorin. Once Óin was done, Thranduil put his palm on Thorin’s forehead and chanted,

_“Hon leitho o ngurth,”_

Again a glow came out of Thranduil’s hand and into Thorin. Bilbo looked at Thorin expectedly, hoping that what the elf-king had done would rouse him.

“I’m sorry Mister Baggins. There is not much I can do for him, your healer has done well but his spirit is far away.” said Thranduil grimly.

Bilbo was crushed at this news but before he could say anything at all, a loud retching noise was heard behind him.

“Fíli!” Bilbo turned around.

The male elf was holding Fíli’s head up and holding a basin in front of him. Blood and phlegm poured out of the young dwarf’s mouth.

“I’m drawing out the liquids inside his lungs,” said the elf, “It should ease his breathing. If he holds on until he is more healed, he may yet live.”

Bilbo was relieved at this news.

“Thank you Master Elf.” said Bilbo.

On the last cot, the female elf was putting herbs on Kíli’s shoulder. She chanted a healing spell over Kíli and black sludge came out of his wound. She wiped off the sludge and addressed her King.

“He was fading my King,” she said, “I have taken all of the poison out but I still fear for his life.”

Bilbo’s heart broke anew for Kíli. He was so young, he should have a hundred and fifty more years to his life. 

“You have done well, Legolas, Tauriel.” Thranduil said to the elves, “I’m sorry we couldn’t do more for them, Mister Baggins.”

“I t-thank you the same for what you have done, Thranduil-King.” answered Bilbo.

Thranduil gave Bilbo a nod and left with his companions. Óin fussed at the boys some more before he too left the chamber.

On the fourth day, Bilbo woke up in better spirits. He hoped that the elf healing would rouse the dwarves. He watched the three of them carefully, searching for signs of wakefulness. Fíli’s breathing had become easier and Kíli’s pallour had improved, but there was no change in Thorin. Night fell, and they stayed asleep, so Bilbo was overcome with despair.

“Don’t leave me here alone!” he cried, “Don’t go where I can’t follow. Wake up Thorin! Wake up…”

Ori had come over to tell Bilbo about the going ons in the mountain. When he saw that Bilbo was wailing and insensate, he hurriedly went back out for reinforcement. He came back with Dwalin and Bofur who tried to soothe Bilbo and coax him away from Thorin’s bedside. Bilbo calmed down but he wouldn’t be parted from Thorin.

"O Aulë the great maker," Bilbo whispered to the still air, "If you have love in your heart for your children... please spare them... please spare _him_... _spare him_."

The air stayed still and Bilbo once again dissolved into sobs and tears.

On the fifth day Balin came and with him was Gandalf. Gandalf’s arm was in a sling for even the wizard had not escaped without a wound. 

“Bilbo Baggins!” he exclaimed, “Alive after all! I am glad. I began to wonder when I didn’t see you in the mountain after the battle.”

“Gandalf.” greeted Bilbo back, “As you can see, I am whole.”

“Your body may be whole, Bilbo,” Gandalf eyed him worriedly, “But your spirits are in tatters.”

Bilbo pondered at Gandalf’s words but he said nothing for it was true.

“Would you join me outside for a smoke?” Gandalf asked kindly.

Bilbo looked at Thorin’s unconscious body, counting his breath. Bilbo put his hand on Thorin’s.

“If it's all the same to you, I'd rather stay here.” he said, “Is there anything you can do for him Gandalf? For them?”

“There’s nothing I can do that hasn’t been done by the elves,” sighed Gandalf, “His spirit walks afar yet he holds on, though I know not whether it is for good or for ill.”

Bilbo tightened his hold on Thorin’s hand as if Thorin’s life would slip away if he let go.

“Let him go, Lad,” said Balin, “Songs will be sung, tales will be told, and Thorin Oakenshield will pass into legend.”

“I can’t Mister Balin,” said Bilbo softly, “To me, he was never that. He was, to me, he was…”

Bilbo could not find the words to describe _how much_ Thorin had become for him in such a short time.

“Do you still mean to go back to the Shire?” asked Gandalf out of nowhere.

Bilbo was startled by the sudden change in conversation.

“I suppose…” said Bilbo hesitantly.

“If you still mean to be back in the Shire by spring, we should leave soon.” said Gandalf again.

Bilbo looked at Thorin again, he was very conflicted. His heart did not want to leave Thorin at all, but his duty was in the Shire. 

“How soon must I leave?” he asked.

“Within a fortnight.” answered Gandalf gently.

In the end duty won.

“Then I shall journey back to the Shire in a fortnight.” Bilbo decided.

“Oh, I’m so sorry Lad…” sighed Balin. “You deserve better than this, both of you…”

A couple more days passed. Bilbo rarely left Thorin’s bedside, little he ate and little he slept. For seven nights Bilbo held vigil in this stone chamber. He kept praying to Yavanna so that she would remind her husband for his love to his children, he prayed to Námo so that he would stay his hand, and he prayed to Eru Ilúvatar so that Thorin and his nephews still have a part to play in the song of Arda.

In the morning of the seventh day, Bilbo had fallen asleep on his chair for he was exhausted in his grief. His hand was folded on Thorin’s bed and his head was on them. He dreamed of a large warm hand combing through his hair, the calloused fingers scratching his scalp. The dream warmed his heart and he loathed to wake up, but wakefulness tugged at him anyway. 

As he became more awake he realized that he still can feel the hand on his head, threading between his hair gently. Bilbo opened his eyes immediately and looked up, he found a pair of blue eyes looking back at him.

Thorin Oakenshield had woken up!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin translation:  
> Hon leitho o ngurth = May he be released from death
> 
> This chapter was called 'untitled chapter of angst' before I decided on the title, y'all probably could see why. But! Thorin is awake after all! And we get to see a glimpse of Legolas and Tauriel! Everything will be great from now on right...riiiight...
> 
> Anyway! We're on the homestretch! Maybe 2 or 3 more chapters before this story came to its conclusion!


	16. Chapter 15 - Thorin's Bargain

Bilbo could scarcely believe his eyes, Thorin had awoken! He drank the dwarf’s visage greedily, soaking in the tender look Thorin gave him. Fresh tears fell from Bilbo’s eyes.

“Am I still dreaming?” Bilbo asked, “Because if I do then I would rather not wake up.”

Thorin wiped Bilbo’s tears from his cheeks with his broad hands.

“Do not weep  _ bunnanunê _ , this is no dream.” said Thorin.

Bilbo could not hold himself any longer, he climbed on Thorin’s cot and embraced the dwarf. Thorin’s arms wrapped around Bilbo in return. They held each other close for a long moment and Bilbo felt all of his grief and worry melted away. When they finally parted, Bilbo’s eyes were dry and a bright smile once again graced his face.

“How long have I slumbered?” Thorin asked.

“It has been a week since the battle was won,” Bilbo answered.

“So we  _ did _ win,” said Thorin to himself.

Thorin tried to sit up straighter but he winced as he pulled at the wound on his side.

“Please stay still, you were grievously injured.” Bilbo fussed at him, “I should call Óin!”

“Aye, I think that will be for the best.” Thorin agreed with him, “Something happened to me when I was unconscious… and I do not know what to make of it.”

Bilbo looked at Thorin worriedly. However, it became apparent that the dwarf would not explain any further. With a last look at Thorin Bilbo left the chamber. Bilbo walked with lighter feet as he searched for Óin. Finally he found the old dwarf in the kitchen. Some members of the company were there with him. Bombur was stirring a pot, Nori and Glóin were eating from a bowl on the small table, and Óin was examining the herbs.

“Óin!” cried Bilbo, “Thorin is awake!”

The dwarves were heartened by the news and they hurriedly went with Bilbo to see Thorin. When they got to the chamber, Óin immediately went to Thorin to check on him. Óin went to undo Thorin’s bandages to see if he had torn any of the stitches with him moving around. However, by Óin’s surprise he found that the wound was much more healed than it was supposed to be.

_ “Tahmadi targmê! _ This is most unusual!” said Óin, “But I will not question good fortune! We need to take out the stitches so you may heal the rest properly.”

Thorin grumbled good naturedly at Óin. Óin was about to put the bandages away before he spotted something on Thorin’s chest.

“Thorin… you’ve got the mark of Mahal on you…”

Gasps was heard from the dwarves and Bilbo saw it. On the left side of Thorin’s chest, right above his heart, a spiky rune in Durin’s blue. The rune was shaped like two towers with a curved bridge between them. Thorin looked down at his own chest with bewilderment,

“It was not just a dream…” he said softly.

“Whatever you mean by that?” Glóin asked.

“Before I answer… Óin, could you please check on the lads?” asked Thorin.

Óin looked like he was about to argue but he relented and went to check on Fíli and Kíli. Much to everyone’s surprise, their wounds were also at the later stage of healing. However there were no unexplained marks on the young dwarves. Thorin didn’t look surprised at all and Bilbo started to be very worried of what may caused their miraculous recovery.

“Now would you care to explain?” asked Bilbo.

“I…” Thorin hesitated before he heaved a great sigh, “I met Mahal in my dream.”

This was met with various exclamations from the dwarves. Bilbo just looked at Thorin expectantly.

“I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it.” Thorin continued, “The lads should wake up soon, and when they wake up I shall know that what had happened to me was true and not just a fevered dream. I shall tell my story when the lads are awake.”

None of them was entirely satisfied with the answer but Thorin was unmoved.

“Keep your secrets for now!” huffed Óin, “Call for Dori! We should sort you out in the meanwhile.”

Off went Nori to look for his older brother, Bombur also excused himself to go back to his duties in the kitchen, and Glóin went to share the good news with the others. Not long after, Nori came back with Dori  _ and  _ Ori. Dori quickly went to work with Óin while Ori came to Bilbo.

“Is Fíli…?” asked the young dwarf hesitantly.

Ori’s hopeful look filled Bilbo with shame. He had been so blinded in his grief that he didn’t notice that he wasn’t the only one hurting? Ori had came in every evening when he can be spared from his scribing duties to tell them the going ons in the mountain, Dwalin had came in and sit silently with him on many nights, and Bofur had brought his meals with Bilbo’s, trying to coax Bilbo out of the room all the while they ate.

“He sleeps still.” Bilbo answered, “But you should not worry, Óin said he is much better and Thorin thinks he will wake up soon.”

Ori nodded at Bilbo’s answer and he sat back quietly, watching his brother as he worked on Thorin. Óin examined Thorin’s wound when Dori finished taking out all of his stitches.

“Good work Dori.” Óin nodded satisfiedly, “Now if you can stand, I rather you clean yourself before I put more salve on it.”

Hearing that Bilbo went to Thorin’s bedside to help. Thorin suffered Bilbo’s fussing with patience and slowly he managed to stand up unassisted. After Óin was convinced that the King Under the Mountain wouldn't slip and die a truly embarrassing death in the bathing chamber, he sent Thorin off to clean himself.

“Now lad unless you want to join Thorin in his bath, I suggest you go to the kitchen and get a bowl of broth for him.” said Óin to Bilbo with a smirk.

Bilbo blushed furiously, Óin looked too amused for Bilbo’s liking but he went off to do as told. When Bilbo came back with a steaming bowl, he saw that Thorin had finished bathing and fresh bandages had been secured on him once more. The dwarf was trying to brush out his hair but kept wincing as he pulled on his injured side. Bilbo set the bowl down on the table, next to the assortments of beads and clasps that usually resided in Thorin’s hair and beard, and went to Thorin’s side.

“Let me help?” Bilbo asked.

The prideful dwarf hesitated for a little bit but relented.

“Please.” said Thorin.

Bilbo took the comb from Thorin’s hand and started to work on his hair. He started by carding the wet hair with his fingers, scratching Thorin’s scalp gently and carefully detangling whenever his fingers were caught. Then Bilbo started to comb. He started from the bottom of the hair and slowly worked his way up. Eventually Bilbo could run the comb smoothly all the way from the roots to the end. Thorin had closed his eyes when Bilbo was done.

“Would you like me to braid it for you?” Bilbo asked.

“Yes.” sighed Thorin without opening his eyes.

Bilbo smiled at the content expression on Thorin’s face. He parted the hair and started to braid. He hummed softly while working, enjoying the feel of Thorin’s coarse hair between his fingers. Bilbo carefully weaved two braids leading away from Thorin’s face before joining it in one braid down the back of his head, threading the beads as he worked. He continued to add two loose braids down the side of Thorin’s face, just the way the dwarf always wore it during their journey. Bilbo secured the clasps at the end of the braid and stood back to examine the result.

“That’s a job well done, If I do say so myself.” said Bilbo.

Thorin ran his fingers through his own hair, gently tracing the braids that Bilbo has done.

“It is very well done.” Thorin agreed with Bilbo.

“Thank you,” Bilbo smiled brightly, “Now, do you think you can stomach some broth?”

“I should try,” said Thorin.

Thorin sat back on his cot and Bilbo handed him the bowl of now-cool broth. Bilbo sat down in what he now referred to as ‘his chair’ and watched Thorin slowly sipping from the bowl. Bilbo was burning with curiosity for the dwarves’ miraculous healing and the mark on Thorin’s chest.

“The Valar rarely give without their due,” Bilbo gave in to his curiosity, “Will you be alright?”

“I..” Thorin hesitated, “The price asked was one I would gladly pay… if it's true. But I ask you for your patience  _ amrâlimê _ , for I need to see Fíli and Kíli well before my eyes before I can truly believe.”

Bilbo accepted Thorin’s answer without much complaints. They proceeded to speak of other matters and Bilbo told Thorin about the going ons in the mountain while he was asleep. Around nood, Fíli started to stir, he was followed closely by Kíli. Again, Óin was swiftly summoned and again he pronounced that the boys were well on the mend.

“Did you see anything while you’re asleep?” Thorin asked Fíli and Kíli.

“I was in a dark place though I do not know for how long. Then I saw a bright light before me and I woke.” Fíli answered.

“The same thing happened to me,” said Kíli.

Thorin took a deep breath and he said to Óin,

“Gather the company, I have a tale to tell.”

Soon enough the company came trickling down into the chamber, Dain and Gandalf came with them. Chairs were brought in but some of them still had to stand or sit on the floor, the room was small and there were many of them.

“I’ve been told that you have been marked by Aulë himself,” said Gandalf, “I’m most interested in this tale.”

“Aye. Listen well and try not to interrupt,” said Thorin to the room, “It is not an easy tale to tell.”

Everyone quieted down and listened with rapt attention.

“After I fell in battle I woke up in a great hall. It was the most wonderful hall I have ever laid my eyes upon, even the halls of Erebor in its height of glory paled in comparison. The pillars were wrought out of gold, silver, iron and bronze with skills unknown to dwarves. The ceilings were filled with magic webs woven of the light of  _ Kaminzabduna _ and the glint of great stars.

In the middle of the hall stood a man, he was taller than any men or elves, his eyes were like starlight, his hair and beard was long and they shone and flickered like fire. Behind him was a great forge and before him was an anvil made out of bright stone, brighter than any diamonds I have ever seen, brighter than the Arkenstone. It was that that I realized, I stood before our maker. He saw me and he called me by my true name.

“So I have died.” I said to him.

“That is yet to be determined.” he answered me. His voice was like the shifting of the earth.

“What do you mean?” I asked him.

“Your line has been tainted by The Corrupter, Thorin son of Thráin, son of Thrór and I was ready to end it with you. But my wife heard the prayer of one of her children and reminded me of my love for you.” he said.

“Bilbo…” I whispered to myself for it was your prayer, child of the kindly west, that had stayed the hand of my maker.

“Come look.” he gestured to the forge.

I gazed into the fire and I see you Bilbo, deep in prayer by my bedside. I thought of the taint that was in our line. The reason for my grandfather’s gold lust, my father’s restlessness, and my own madness became clear to me.

“What about my sister-sons?” I asked, “Are they tainted too?”

“The corruption did not pass to your sister-sons but their life too is in precipice.” he answered.

The fire flickered and I saw them. Fíli was lying supine, his chest rattled with every belaboured breath. Kíli was so pale and wan, his breaths were barely there. And I wept for you my lads. 

“Please spare them!” begged the maker, “Take my life but please let them live.”

“But your life is no longer in your hand.” he told me.

“Then for all of the riches in Erebor, spare them!” I cried.

“Riches? You forgot that I am Aulë. I forged all of the lands and the mountains, mine are the gems that lie deep in the Earth and the gold that is fair in the hand. I taught the skills of your people to your forefathers.” he boomed out.

I was struck with fear and awe. I prostrated myself before him and asked for his forgiveness.

“Forgive me o Mahal for I am nothing before you!” I said, “But what could I offer you for the life of my kin?”

He looked at me with his bright otherworldly eyes and I felt judgement.

“You could offer me your deeds,” he said. “Will you bargain for your life so you may bargain your deeds for your sister-sons’ life?”

“For my sister-sons’ life I will.” I answered him, “But what can I offer you for my life? With nothing I was brought to this world and with nothing I stand before you now.”

“There is one thing you have carried from the day of your birth and forevermore that you can offer.” he said.

“What do you mean My Lord?” I asked.

“You can offer me your  _ birthright _ , Thorin, son of Thrór, son of Thráin, descendant of Durin, the first of my children. The battle has been won, my children will once again prosper in the Lonely Mountain, but you  _ will not be King _ . You must leave Erebor and let others sit on your throne.” 

I was struck silent by his answer for it is not a small thing that was asked. I will live but I will have to abandon our newly reclaimed home. But compared to your lives  _ irakdashatumê _ , it was nothing.

“Then I offer you my birthright in exchange for my life.” I said, “And what would you have me do for my sister-sons’ lives?”

“The Great Enemy had seduced many of my servants and his darkness still lingers in the world. Even now he whispers in the ear of my people. I have grown weary in repairing the tumults and disorders of Melkor but it is the will of Eru that I continue to do so.” said he.

At that moment he looked ancient, older than the world, older than creation itself.

“How may I assist you in your duty?” I asked.

“Darkness will once again come to middle-earth and you will have a part in vanquishing it once and for all. Your part will be made known to you when the time comes and once you’ve done your part, should you survive your duty, you may once again return to Erebor.” he answered me.

His words were heavy on my shoulder for it was a great duty that he had given to me. But they also gave me hope.

“I shall do as my Lord Maker wished.” I gave him my word.

“For my love to you I shall give you a boon.” he smiled, “You shall know peace my child. Until it is time for you to do your duty you shall live in peace.”

He came to me and bid me to stand up. He placed his hand upon my chest and he pushed. Everything went dark and I woke up here this morning.” Thorin finished his story gravely.

A hushed silence fell in the room, they are not sure what to make of Thorin’s story.

“What a grand tale!” Gandalf broke the silence, “And full of dark tidings! But the mark on your chest tells me that it is true.”

As if Gandalf had opened a door, questions came from the dwarves.

“So you must leave Erebor?” asked Balin.

“Aye.” answered Thorin gravely.

“Thorin, you cannot do this. You're our king!” said Dwalin.

“Did you not listen, my friend?” asked Thorin, “By the will of Mahal I will not be king.”

“But who will be king?” asked Dori.

“Fíli is my heir.” Thorin answered.

“But uncle!” exclaimed Fíli, “I do not think I am ready!”

“I’m sorry to leave this burden upon your shoulder  _ madtithbirzulê _ , I was only ninety five when my father was lost. ” said Thorin kindly, “You have shown me the marks of a great ruler, you shall be wise and just. And you shan’t be alone!”

Thorin turned to Kíli,

“Will you stand by your brother, protect his back from harm, and support him in all of his deeds?”

“Aye uncle, I will.” said Kíli with resolve.

“Balin my old friend, long have you offered me your wise counsel. Will you continue to do so for my heir?” Thorin asked Balin.

“Aye I will.” said Balin with tears in his eyes.

“Dain, I do not ask this lightly from you, but will you stay in Erebor and help him rebuild the mountain to its former glory?” Thorin asked Dain.

“Aye cousin, I will.” said Dain gravely.

“Dwalin, you have been their protector since they were a babe. Will you continue to do so?” asked Thorin to Dwalin.

“I am honoured, but I rather follow you where you go.” said Dwalin stubbornly.

“I’m honoured to hear that my friend. But for my sake, please stay and stand as the King’s guard. Protect them where I can’t.” Thorin pleaded.

“Aye.” Dwalin relented, “Aye I will.”

“And to all of you,” Thorin addressed the room, “Do you accept the claim of Fíli, son of Dis, daughter of Thráin?”

“Aye.” the dwarves answered as one.

“Then I name you Fíli son of Dis, King Under the Mountain!” declared Thorin.

_ “Shamukh Fíli Disnul! Uzband undu ‘Urd!” _ the dwarves replied as one.

Fíli looked at the room with trepidation but he steeled himself and accepted his duty with grace.

“By the labour of many I have come into this inheritance and by the labour of many more the mountain shall be made home for our people.” said Fíli.

Bilbo never saw the young dwarf with such grim determination. Fíli would make a good king, he would value the welfare of his people above all. Then Kíli voiced the question that was niggling at the back of Bilbo’s mind.

“Where shall you go uncle?”

“I have thought of it and I shall go back to my anvil in Ered Luin, though the halls might be much emptier as our people came back here,” said Thorin.

The thought of Thorin alone in the halls of the Blue Mountains does not sit well with Bilbo. Suddenly a thought occurred to him,

“Ahem!” Bilbo cleared his throat. When he had the chamber’s attention he continued, “Thorin Oakenshield, you have offered me your courtship in the way of my people. Now let me offer you my courtship in the way of Durin’s Folk. Come stay at Bag End for a year and a day, and for as long as you wish afterwards.”

“Would you still have me Bilbo? Even though I’m no longer king?” Thorin asked disbelievingly.

“I didn’t fall in love with the king.” said Bilbo, “I fell in love with a strong, proud, and stubborn dwarf who had done everything for his kin.”

“Then I gladly accept your invitation,” Thorin smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul translation:  
> bunnanunê = my tiny treasure  
> Tahmadi targmê! = Bless my beard!  
> amrâlimê = my love  
> Kaminzabduna = Earth queen (the dwarves' name for Yavanna)  
> irakdashatumê = my nephews  
> madtithbirzulê = my little golden heart  
> Shamukh Fili Disnul! Uzband undu ‘Urd! = Hail Fili son of Dis, King Under the Mountain!
> 
> So this is the chapter that prompted the rewrite! In the original version Thorin was supposed to die but my muse just would not work with that. I really hope that this chapter doesn't feel too 'out there'. I had fun writing Aule!
> 
> According to the LotR Wiki Aule was the Valar most similar in thought and powers to Melkor, but he strove to be true to the original intent of the Music of the Ainurs and submitted all that he did to the will of Ilúvatar. Aule had three Maiar (that we know of) that was seduced by Melkor: Mairon/Sauron, Osse, and Curomo/Saruman. So yeah...he was sick of the dark side stealing his shit and ruining them.


	17. Chapter 16 - Many Partings

It was soon decided that Thorin would leave Erebor with Bilbo and Gandalf in ten days. But they were not idle in those ten days, for there are many matters that needed their attention. Out of the three hundred dwarven warriors that came with Dain, only two hundred and seventeen survived. These fallen dwarves must be buried in a hall under the mountain so their spirits could reach Mahal through the mountain.

An expedition deep into the mountain was done and a suitable hall was found. The dead were dressed in their armour and their weapons laid beside them for it was an honour to die in battle. Fíli led the singing of the funeral dirges. Hearing the dwarves’ low rumbling chant, Bilbo was struck with great sorrow though he did not understand the words. Once the last notes faded away, came the whispers of names. One by one the fallen’s hidden-names were whispered by their kin for the last time in living memories. 

Bilbo found himself thinking of the conversation he had with Thorin the night before,

“Tomorrow in the funeral, their true names will be spoken.” said Thorin softly.

“True names?” Bilbo asked.

“Aye. This is a secret that my people hold closest to their heart, more dear than our language, more dear than our craft. But I will tell you, for you Bilbo Baggins are a  _ khudzbâha." _ said Thorin in the same soft voice. 

It was late at night and they were in the chamber that had been assigned to Thorin after his recovery. They lay close together and Thorin’s soft tone was spoken into the small space between them painting the gravity of the situation clearly for Bilbo.

“Then I shall listen and not a word of it will pass from my lips to anyone be it men, elves, or hobbits.” Bilbo swore.

“For that you have our gratitude.” Thorin smiled.

Bilbo couldn’t help but smile back. He treasured each of Thorin’s rare smiles, though the dwarf had been more free with them since he woke up from his long slumber.

“Each dwarf has a name - a true name that is our innermost self. Mahal gifted the name to our parents when we were born and when we were old enough to understand, they will teach it to us. Our true names are never written down and very rarely spoken out loud outside that except to our spouse after we wed them and... on our funeral.” Thorin explained.

“I thank you for this gift and I shall not ask you for yours for it is not mine to ask.” said Bilbo simply.

“If I have my way  _ bunnanunê _ (my tiny treasure), one day it will be.” Thorin murmured, barely a whisper.

Bilbo shifted closer to and rested his head on Thorin’s chest for no words was enough to reply to that.

Bilbo’s mind came back to the proceedings as the last names were being called. He watched as four dwarves rolled a giant boulder to seal the hall. On the stone these words were carved in dwarvish runes:  _ Yadi tazlifîn uhluth id-'uzghu Azsâlul'abad _ . 

When the dead had been put to rest they turned their attention to the living. Dain had brought enough supplies for them to last the winter but Dale would not be producing food until next autumn. So a trade agreement was drafted to be presented to Thranduil. A small contingent of dwarves including Kíli and Dwalin will accompany Thorin to the Woodland Realm to discuss the trade.

“And you’ll make sure they didn’t muck it up, won’t you Bilbo?” said Balin as Thorin scowled at the thought of  _ making nice _ with the Elvenking.

Repairs were done all over the mountain, helmed by Bofur and Bifur. However most of the major undertaking must wait until more stonemasons arrive to the mountain. Thankfully the living halls were in good shape though needed a thorough cleaning. Dori took to the job with relish dragging a much less enthused Nori with him.

They decided against sending a raven to Ered Luin, worrying that the poor bird will not survive the long journey in the middle of winter. Instead Thorin himself would bring them the good news since he was heading that way.

“I’m glad I’m not the one that had to tell Dís that her boys nearly died,” Dwalin jested.

Thorin cringed at the jest, but Bilbo would really like to meet her. She sounded like a formidable dwarrowdam.

Lastly the conversation turned towards the distribution of the treasures. Ori had found a series of books on the accounting of the treasury. They haven’t managed to go through it all but they have found some discrepancy.

“I think that some of the gold in the hoard came from Dale,” said Ori when he finished explaining all of the discrepancies that he found.

“Then to Dale shall the gold return on top of the payment we owed them,” Fíli decided.

Bilbo smiled brightly at the young dwarf for his decision. This bode well for the future of Erebor, Fíli would deal his treasure well. From there the discussions went to Thorin’s and Bilbo’s share.

“I nearly condemned us all because of these gold. I do not deserve a single coin!” said Thorin.

“But what about Mister Baggin’s share?” said Dain, “You can’t argue that he deserved his share and much more?”

Bilbo rolled his eyes. For even a fourteenth share was wealth exceedingly great, greater than that of many mortal kings. 

“How on earth should I have got all that treasure home without war and murder all along the way?” asked Bilbo, “Take my share and use it to rebuild and be reminded of your friendship with me when dwarves dealt with hobbits in the future.”

The dwarves were not entirely happy with Bilbo’s decision and argued with him about it. In the end they managed to convince Bilbo to take two small chests, one filled with silver, and the other with gold, such as one strong pony could carry.

With all of the matters as settled as they can be, all that left for Bilbo to do is to pack for his journey home. It was their last night in Erebor, Bilbo was sorting through his clothes trying to decide which ones to bring with him and which ones were beyond repairs and should be discarded. He unfolded the last item to be sorted, it was one of his waistcoats. He ran his fingers over the wooden buttons fondly, this was the waistcoat that he wore all the way from Beorn’s and into the mountain. 

As he was about to fold it back up, he felt a weight in its pocket. Bilbo checked the pocket and he found his magic ring, he had forgotten all about it! Bilbo put the ring on his palm, he was fascinated by how such a small thing had saved him again and again. Suddenly, he heard someone approaching. He quickly put the ring back in the waistcoat’s pocket and put the waistcoat back in his pack. Somehow he really didn’t want anyone to see his ring.

“Bilbo?” it was Thorin.

“Thorin! Can I help you?” asked Bilbo.

“Are you all packed?” Thorin asked.

“In fact I’m just finished! You have impeccable timing as always!” said Bilbo with cheer, “Now what can this hobbit do for you?”

“I would seek you out just to be at your presence  _ amrâlimê _ ,” teased Thorin, “But tonight I would be most pleased if you’d join me for a walk, I would like to walk these halls for one last time.”

Thorin’s voice turned grim at the last part and Bilbo felt for him.

“My dear dwarf,” sighed Bilbo, “I need to drop this clothes to Dori. If you would accompany me to do so, I shall join you after?”

“Aye. That will be perfect.” Thorin smiled gently.

Bilbo smiled back at Thorin and ducked his head, those smiles will be the death of him. They trodded the short walk to Dori’s side by side, Thorin insisting on carrying half of the load.

“Now where shall we go?” Bilbo asked Thorin once they dropped their load off.

“Follow me.” Thorin answered.

Bilbo was more than glad to do so, after all he had followed this dwarf across middle earth and he hadn’t led him astray. Thorin led them along hallways and from chambers to chambers. All the way he would tell Bilbo fond memories of the place. Here were the halls where he used to play hide and go seek with his brother and sister. There was the training chamber where he used to tussle with Dwalin. Bilbo listened attentively as his dwarf spoke of happier times with a voice full of fondness.

Bilbo followed Thorin to the forges where he discovered his craft as a young dwarf and down to the mines where he learned to listen to the songs of earth and rock and gems. Thorin stopped at a small crack along the mine wall, just wide enough for a grown dwarf to squeeze in.

“After you,” he gestured to the crack.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow at Thorin but the dwarf just looked back at him impassively. Bilbo inclined his head in defeat and stepped into the darkness. Thorin followed closely behind bringing their torch with him. Bilbo blinked his eyes to adjust to the darkness and observed the space. The room was small, you couldn’t fit half a dozen dwarves in it without them standing shoulder to shoulder. But the ceiling was tall, stretching out into the darkness. The walls were sprinkled by small twinkling gems in many colours, it danced with the firelight like a surreal impression of the night sky.

“Beautiful,” Bilbo breathed out.

Thorin placed their torch in the scone and walked to Bilbo’s side.

“Those are  _ zargun _ . They are not worth much compared to other gems that are found here. But they are beautiful.” said Thorin.

Bilbo didn’t say anything but he leaned his head to rest on Thorin’s side. Thorin put his hand around Bilbo’s shoulder and pulled him close.

“I found this place when I was twenty, a stripling lost in the mines.” Thorin recounted, “But I kept coming back throughout the years. This became my sanctuary whenever I wanted to hide from my lessons, or the court, or later when my grandfather’s madness became unbearable.”

“I’m sorry that you have to lose this place,” Bilbo huddled closer to Thorin, “So soon after you gained it back.”

“I haven’t had it for one hundred and seventy years and I learned to live without,” said Thorin, “Now my mind rests easier than it has since the sack of Erebor and by Mahal’s word the dwarves will prosper here once more without me here. My duty is satisfied and now I can follow my heart.”

And they stayed there, together under the light of a thousand tiny gemstones until late into the night.

The next day, they were ready to set off. Kíli, Dwalin and four of Dain’s folk would march with them until the Woodland Realm before they too will be parted from Bilbo and Thorin. The rest of the company had gathered at the gate to send them off. 

“Take care on the road Master Baggins,” said Dori to Bilbo. “And you.” he turned to Thorin, “you take care of him!”

“With my life.” Thorin promised.

“None of that my friend!” said Balin, “You got your life back don’t throw it away! Live and be glad!”

“Ach! I shall miss your wise words Balin!” said Thorin.

“Don’t forget my letters to Ruva!” said Glóin.

“Please send me your seed cakes recipe!” said Bombur.

A few more rounds of teary farewells and embraces was exchanged until it was time for them to leave.

“So this is it then, farewell uncle.” said Fíli with misty eyes.

“Farewell  _ madtithbirzulê _ , may your reign be peaceful and prosperous.” replied Thorin grimly.

“Oh pish tosh! You speak as if you wouldn’t clap eyes at each other ever again.” huffed Bilbo even though he had tears in his eyes as well, “Come visit the Shire when your kingly duties allow it lad! Tea is at four and you are welcome at any time!”

“That goes for all of you as well!” Bilbo turned to the rest of the company, “Send words if you can this time and be kind to my doorbell!”

Huffed laughs were heard from the company.

“Well as the esteemed Mister Baggins said, until we meet again!” said Gandalf, “But now let us go!”

So off they marched toward the halls of Thranduil. This time the dwarves got much warmer reception, they ate at the King’s table and slept in their guest-rooms. However, the trade negotiations were still tense and filled with veiled insults. More than once Bilbo had to stop Thorin from going off about the treachery of elves.

“We are not asking for aid, Thranduil-King.” said Kíli, his crown-prince braid gleamed in torchlight, “We are asking for  _ trade _ . Is it not the way of neighbouring allies? The trade for goods?”

Who would’ve thought  _ Kíli _ would be the diplomatic one? The negotiations went smoother after that and soon enough they managed to settle on an agreement. They were done with the agreement and about to leave the table when Thranduil halted them.

“If I may have a moment of your time,” said Thranduil. 

One of his guards handed him a long parcel wrapped in cloth.

“This I give to you Thorin son of Thráin, in the spirit of our  _ alliance,” _ Thranduil sneered the last words, throwing Thorin’s words on the gate of Erebor back to him.

Thorin couldn’t refuse without risking their new trade agreement. He took the parcel with a hard set on his jaw. He unwrapped it and revealed Orcrist, the elvish sword that had been taken from Thorin in captivity. Bilbo saw Thorin’s jaw twitched in irritation.

“Thank you for your gift.” said Thorin with gritted teeth.

Thranduil gave a small nod back and dismissed them. Bilbo exhaled in relief and patted Thorin’s arm to soothe his anger. 

With that being settled, it was time for them to depart again. Thorin held Kíli in a long embrace. 

“Be good for your brother.” said Thorin to the top of Kíli’s hair.

Kíli’s ‘aye’ were muffled on Thorin’s chest. Thorin held on for a while longer before reluctantly let him go.

“You will keep them safe?” He turned to Dwalin.

“Until my last breath.” promised Dwalin.

They regarded each other for a moment before knocking their forehead together. Bilbo winced at the impact, he really needed to get used to this tradition. So they parted, Bilbo, Thorin, and Gandalf went to the west and the rest of the dwarves back to the east. Their journey across Mirkwood was easier with Gandalf with them. But the forest was still dark, and there were many other things besides spiders in it. But Bilbo was well guided and well guarded by Gandalf and Thorin and they were never in great danger again.

They had no need for Gandalf’s clever scheme for Beorn himself had met them at the edge of Mirkwood to invite them to his house. That night they feasted on honey cakes and cream. Bilbo filled their host in on the rest of their story. After all, Beorn only arrived at the very end of the battle.

“What a remarkable creature you are, little bunny!” said Beorn when Bilbo finished telling their tale. “Elf-friend and dwarf-friend!”

“Hobbits really are amazing creatures. You can learn all that there is to know about their ways in a month, and yet after a hundred years they can still surprise you!” said Gandalf, “But I am curious about the name gifted to you by the Elvenking.  _ Padholen _ , he who walks unseen.”

“I wouldn’t worry about the things that came out of that pointy eared bastard’s mouth,” grumbled Thorin.

“Well! I suppose I should tell you the story!” said Bilbo. He was feeling full and merry so he ignored Thorin and continued, “I was saving it for my book, you know. But I can tell you the short of it!”

Bilbo took out his pipe and stuffed the bowl with some leaves. He lit the bowl, took a deep puff, and started his story. He told them about meeting the creature Gollum in the goblin caves and their riddle games.

“It was the most bizzare riddle game I have ever played in my life!” said Bilbo, “But I won the game and the creature gave me this golden ring as a  _ present _ . It’s a plain golden band without any gems or markings but when I put it on, it turned me invisible! And that was how I escaped the tunnels and how I sneaked around the halls of the Elvenking!” 

Bilbo puffed out a great smoke ring as he finished his story with flourish. Gandalf however was looking at him curiously.

“Curious indeed!” said Gandalf, “Magic rings are rare and I have somewhat of a professional interest in them.”

“What use will my ring be for a wizard? It is but a trinket and early though it was I considered it  _ my birthday present _ .”

Something twigged at the back of Bilbo’s mind as he said that. He didn’t know why he said it for it wasn’t a hobbit culture to  _ receive _ presents for their birthday. In fact they _ gave away _ presents for the occasion. If Gandalf noticed the peculiarity he didn’t say anything about it.

“Keep your secrets for now Bilbo Baggins,” he said instead, “But take my advice - use it very seldom or not at all! It may have other powers than just making you vanish when you wished to!”

“Don’t you worry about it my friend,” said Bilbo easily as Thorin grumbled some more about wizards and grim warnings, “I doubt I’ll find any use for it back in The Shire!”

The matter was put to rest after that and they carried on chatting merrily into the night. The snow fell down thick and heavy as they slept that night and they heard news from Beorn’s animal friends that the mountain pass was blocked when they woke up the next day. They had no choice but to stay at Beorn’s house until the snow melts.

They had a warm and merry yuletide there and men came from far and wide to feast at Beorn’s bidding. The goblins of the Misty Mountains were now few and terrified, and hidden in the deepest holes they could find; and the Wargs had vanished from the woods, so that men went abroad without fear. It was an idyllic winter for Bilbo and Thorin, but it made Bilbo longed for The Shire even more and he grew restless as the days passed.

“Your mind is heavy.” said Thorin to Bilbo one afternoon. 

They were sitting by a window, snow was still falling gently outside. Bilbo was quiet for a while before he replied to Thorin,

“This is the first winter I had outside of The Shire.”

“You miss your home? Your armchair and your soft bed?” teased Thorin gently.

“Not quite…” Bilbo sighed, “I  _ do  _ miss all that but that’s not what is weighing my mind.”

“Then would you care to share them with me?” asked Thorin.

“Do you…” Bilbo paused, he tried to find the words to describe his worries, “Do you remember the Fell Winter twenty nine years back?”

“Aye..I do.” said Thorin, “Kíli was still very young then. That winter came hard and long, and we had to ration our food quite strictly at the end.”

“That winter was especially hard for The Shire,” said Bilbo, “The harvest was bad to begin with that year so when the winter hit early, we were not prepared. We had to ration our food from the beginning but there just wasn’t enough. Many hobbits fell to hunger and sickness that year. 

To make matters worse, the Brandywine river froze and the white wolves crossed the river to search for prey. We had to stop the foraging parties after one of the parties was attacked… and  _ eaten _ by the wolves. Even food distribution runs became very dangerous.”

“I had no idea…” said Thorin.

“Not many do and others had their own to think about that winter,” said Bilbo resignedly, “But when we thought that we had no more hope, the Rangers of the North came. My friend Arathorn led the party and Elrond’s sons came with them. They brought us food and guarded the foraging parties and the food runs. We wouldn’t have survived if it’s not for them.”

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that.” Thorin offered.

“I’m sure that this paled in comparison to what  _ you _ went through.” said Bilbo.

“That doesn’t mean your pain didn’t matter _.” _ said Thorin gently.

That coaxed a smile out of Bilbo.

“Anyway that was decades ago and we  _ made sure _ we had enough food for the winter whether the harvest was good or bad. However…” Bilbo paused, “I do not know whether our harvest is good this year and I wasn’t there to organize the food reserves... I’m  _ worried _ Thorin.”

“My dear hobbit, I had forgotten that you had many responsibilities back in The Shire.” said Thorin, “But I believe they will be fine, this winter is neither long nor harsh.”

“I hope so..”

It was late in February when the weather was  _ finally _ fair enough for them to continue their travels. However when they were about to pack their food supplies, there wasn’t nearly enough food provided for the two to three weeks journey to Rivendell. In fact there was only enough food for a day’s journey.

“Confusticate this! Have we offended our host?” said Bilbo in horror. 

There was no graver insult in The Shire than providing insufficient food for your guest and Bilbo was raking his mind in panic to remember  _ what had they done _ to deserve such insult.

“I do not believe so,” said Thorin, “But this is worrying indeed.”

“Do not worry!” said Gandalf, “These will be enough food until we reach the valley of Imladris.”

“But h-”

Bilbo’s words were cut by the arrival of their host. 

“Ho! Are you all packed? Your ride is here!” said Beorn with his booming voice.

Thorin was about to say something about their provision but Gandalf shot him a quelling look.

“Nearly!” said Gandalf, “Now come on, we better hurry!”

Bilbo and Thorin looked at each other with questioning looks but they went to pack up the food provided for them anyway. Gandalf did not seem to worry about it so Bilbo decided that the wizard might know something they did not. Wizards after all are wizards, secretive and full of mysterious tidings. They finished their packing quickly and followed Beorn to his porch, outside they saw Landroval and three young eagles waiting for them.

“Landroval! It is good to see you!” exclaimed Bilbo, “Are you our ride?”

“Bilbo Baggins, It is good to see you whole with my own eyes though I am no-one's ride for I am neither a horse nor a mule.” said Landroval bemusedly, “But these three hatchlings have agreed to carry you to the valley of Imladris.”

“Well met Landroval, it seems that we are in your debt again.” said Thorin, “I apologize for not thanking the Eagles myself for your help in the battle.”

“I was told that you were incapacitated.” said Landroval, “We did not go to battle for your sake, Erebor is too important to fall to the hand of the enemy. And it was for the better, the mountains are once again safe for the hatchlings to fly over.”

Said hatchlings shifted impatiently and clicked their beaks at Landroval. Landroval clicked his beak back at them somewhat disapprovingly and the young eagles settled themselves down.

“Well the weather is fair and it seems the young ones are eager to fly,” said Gandalf, “Let us go!”

They carefully climbed on the eagle’s backs once again and said goodbye to Beorn and Landroval. Once again Bilbo took to the sky on the back of an eagle. Bilbo was a lot less scared this time and rather enjoyed the flight. The fact that it carried Bilbo closer to home made it even better.

They stopped for a break on the same platform that the eagles had brought them to last time. They unpacked their food and there were more than enough for a hobbit, a dwarf, and a wizard to have a hearty lunch. They offered their food to the eagles but they preferred to hunt for their own. 

They were ready to depart again when Bilbo saw Thorin standing near the edge of the platform facing east. Bilbo walked up to Thorin and looked at the view. They saw a white sun shining over the outstretched lands. There behind lay Mirkwood, blue in the distance, and darkly green at the nearer edge even in the spring. There far away was the Lonely Mountain on the edge of eyesight. On its highest peak snow yet unmelted was gleaming pale.

“One day,” said Bilbo, “When Erebor is restored and renewed, when the halls gleamed once again and filled with life, you shall walk in it’s halls again.”

“Aye,” said Thorin, “We will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul translations:  
> khudzbâha = dwarf-friend  
> bunnanunê = my tiny treasure  
> Yadi tazlifîn uhluth id-'uzghu Azsâlul'abad = Here lies the heroes of the Battle for the Lonely Mountain  
> amrâlimê = my love  
> zargun = zircon (confession time: this one is not really Khuzdul but actually old persian...but i can't find the translation for zircon in Khuzdul >.<)  
> madtithbirzulê = my little golden heart
> 
> I kinda predicted this but the original plan for the last chapter grew into a monster so I decided to split it into two. This chapter is meant to transition Bilbo slowly from the hardened adventurer back to the sensible hobbit king (with more worldly experience) that we love. I also wanted to highlight the friends they have made along the way and the One Ring influence over Bilbo.
> 
> What do you think? Did I manage it?
> 
> P.S. If you have been following this story and is confused by the eagles...please check back Chapter 7 - Beans out of The Baggins, I added a bit with the eagles there :)


	18. Chapter 17 - Back Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ratings goes up for smut >:)

The sun was gone from the horizon when the eagles set them down on the flat circular area just inside Rivendell’s entrance arch. The elves of the valley came out to greet them and Biblo barely finished his goodbyes to the eagles when someone came and _picked him up._

“Little Bilbo!” cried the elf.

“Not little anymore thank you very much!” said Bilbo in dismay, there was only a pair of elves that knew him by that epithet, “Now put me down Ella-! Elro-! Oh just put me down before my dwarf took offence!”

Said dwarf was gripping Orcist hilt very tightly, prepared to fight to get Bilbo back down. Thankfully the elf set Bilbo down before any swords could be drawn. 

“Obviously I’m Elrohir, the more handsome one,” said Elrohir with a cheeky smile.

“It is good to see you again Elrohir,” Bilbo rolled his eyes.

“Whilst I, the older and wiser one will welcome you back to Rivendell, we were disappointed that we missed you last time,” came another elf that looked exactly like Elrohir, “Now, would you introduce us to _your_ dwarf?”

Thorin had none-so-subtly pulled Bilbo close and placed himself between Bilbo and the elves when Elrohir set him down. Bilbo, realizing his slip of the tongue, blushed furiously. However he raised his head proudly, ignored his reddened cheeks, and said,

“This is Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror. And yes, he is _my dwarf.”_ said Bilbo with a little edge in his voice. 

Thorin’s shoulders completely relaxed and he turned to look at Bilbo with astonished _wonder_. Bilbo felt his face heating up even more.

“Welcome back to Rivendell, Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain,” said Elladan with an amused smile, “Words of the success of your venture had reached the valley mere days ago and I must say, little Bilbo had done well for himself!”

“I don’t see why the venerable Baggins of The Shire should settle for anything less,” said Thorin with a small smile, “But I’m afraid I’m no longer King, Master Elf.”

“That sounded like there is an interesting tale behind it,” said Elrohir.

“It was indeed a very interesting and rather extraordinary one,” said Gandalf, “In fact it is a tale best told in the Hall of Fire tonight! Now how much longer are you going to hold us in your front gate?”

“My apologies, Mithrandir,” came another elf, “ I came to see what is holding you here, I should have known that it is these two.”

“No harm done Erestor my friend,” said Gandalf, “But I am an _old man_ and I’m rather weary from my journey.”

Huffs of laughter was heard from the elves while Bilbo and Thorin looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Clearly _no one_ believed that Gandalf is just an _old man._ However Erestor humored him,

“Come,” he said, “I believe supper is ready…”

Supper was warm and merry, and when they adjourned to the Hall of Fire there were many eager ears that evening to hear the tale of their adventures. Gandalf was who spoke, most of the tale Bilbo knew, for he had been in it, and had himself told much of it to the wizard on their homeward way or in the house of Beorn.

It was in this way that he learned where Gandalf had been to. It appeared that Gandalf and the white council had at last driven the Necromancer from his dark hold in the south of Mirkwood. When the tale of their journeyings was told, Elrond turned to Thorin and said,

“We are honoured to have one marked by the Valar amongst us.”

“I…” 

Thorin looked around the hall, all of the elves in attendance were looking at him with some measure of awe and _respect._ Bilbo could see that Thorin was _floored,_ he had never been treated with anything less than suspicions and cold derisions from the elves. Bilbo placed a hand on Thorin’s back to support him. Thorin took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and said,

“I am honoured to be here Lord Elrond.”

Elrond nodded at Thorin solemnly, and then he turned to Bilbo.

“The sword that slain the Pale Orc should have a name,” he said, “Have you thought of one?”

“Yes.” Bilbo looked at Thorin and smiled, “I think I should like to name it Sting.”

“It is a fitting name! I shall be happy to engrave it on the blade for you.” said Elrond.

“About that…” Bilbo glanced at Thorin again, “I’d like it to be engraved in…runes.”

“Runes?” asked Elrond.

“Khuzdul runes, aye.” Thorin was the one answered.

Elrond’s eyes widened and he went still, betraying the elf lord’s _utter surprise._ Bilbo couldn’t blame him for his surprise, Khuzdul was not a secret the dwarves willingly unlocked for other races. They tended it and guarded it as the treasure of the past.

“You would _voluntarily_ let me engrave it in Khuzdul?” Elrond finally recovered and asked.

“They said that the Doors of Durin in Khazad-dûm was engraved in Sindarin by Narvi from the writing of Celebrimbor, I don’t see why you can’t engrave an elven blade with Khuzdul,” answered Thorin, “Furthermore, you _already knew the language.”_

At this Elrond laughed. His laughter sounded like a great bell echoing in the hall.

“Bring Orcist with you in the morrow. _We_ will engrave that in Khuzdul too!” he said.

“I shall see you tomorrow,” Thorin nodded in acceptance.

After that more tales were told, and yet more tales, tales of long ago, and tales of new things, and tales of no time at all, till Bilbo’s head fell sideways on Thorin’s shoulder and he slept soundly for the rest of the night.

He woke to find himself in a white bed, and the morning sun shining through an open window. Thorin was still asleep beside him. Bilbo felt a slight embarrassment, for Thorin must have carried him to bed last night. It was rare that Bilbo woke up earlier than Thorin so he took time to savour the view of the sleeping dwarf. Thorin’s face was relaxed in sleep, the furrow between his brows was not as deep and his stubborn jaw hung slightly open. Bilbo leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss upon Thorin’s forehead. Thorin furrowed his brows and slowly blinked awake.

“Bilbo?” Thorin opened his eyes.

Bilbo just smiled and leaned down to kiss the dwarf on the lips. Thorin put one hand behind Bilbo’s head and one hand on the small of his back. Bilbo hummed as Thorin deepened their kiss, their tongues tangled with each other. 

Thorin flipped them over so that Bilbo’s back was against the bed. His kisses trailed down to Bilbo’s jaw, Bilbo tilted his head back and gave a small giggle as he felt Thorin’s beard tickling his throat. Bilbo’s giggle turned into a moan when Thorin gave a sharp bite on his collarbone, his fingers busy unbuttoning Bilbo’s shirt.

When Thorin had divested Bilbo of his shirt he leaned back to admire the view, Bilbo’s face was flushed, his lips were swollen, and his hair strewn like a golden nimbus around his head. Bilbo looked up as Thorin took off his own shirt, his eyes trailed down to Thorin’s well sculpted chest and stomach, smattered with dark hair. 

Thorin gave Bilbo a small smirk before he descended on one of Bilbo’s nipples. Bilbo choked off a gasp as Thorin’s tongue circled around the nub. Bilbo scrambled to unlace Thorin’s breeches, his hand blindly grasping at the laces. Thorin rewarded Bilbo with a deep grunt when Bilbo’s hand _finally_ wrapped around his shaft. Thorin switched to Bilbo’s other nipple while Bilbo started to stroke him.

Thorin’s fingers slipped underneath Bilbo’s waistband and he took Bilbo’s pants off with a _yank._ Thorin lined their bodies flushed together and started to rock. Bilbo’s hip buckled up uselessly against Thorin’s weight above him at the contact. He moaned into Thorin’s neck when the dwarf sneaked a hand to fondle Bilbo’s rump. 

Bilbo’s hand gripped Thorin’s back, nails digging in the flesh as their rocking became frantic. Thorin grasped his hand amongst Bilbo’s hair and tugged them, he thrusted erratically against Bilbo and came with a groan. Bilbo followed soon after, finishing with stuttering gasps.

Thorin rested his forehead against Bilbo’s, their heavy breaths mingled between them. Bilbo smiled sunnily at Thorin and said,

“Good morning.”

Thorin huffed out a laugh, he rolled off Bilbo and laid on his back beside him.

“A _very_ good morning to you too.” said Thorin with a smile.

Bilbo laughed softly and turned to nestle against Thorin's side but he grimaced at the stickiness all over his chest and stomach. 

“I suppose we must clean ourselves up,” said Bilbo.

They reluctantly got out of bed and went off to the bathing chambers. Soon enough, they were dressed and headed down to breakfast.

“You’re going to the forge with Elrond after breakfast?” Bilbo asked Thorin.

“Aye,” answered Thorin, “Would you like to join us?”

“Oh dear no, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself in a forge,” said Bilbo, “I suppose I’ll go see… and explore! Yes! I found a library last time that I’d like to explore some more…”

“Bilbo…” said Thorin, watching Bilbo curiously, “You… have a _secret,_ in _Rivendell.”_

“Well… I… um…” Bilbo stammered.

Thorin lifted an eyebrow.

“Fine. Yes. _And yes.”_ huffed Bilbo.

“And…?”

“And it is not my secret to tell.” said Bilbo, “Thorin, you know I would tell you if I could.”

“This secret… would it be a danger to us? To Erebor?” asked Thorin cautiously.

“No. On the name of Yavanna Kementári I swear to you: _no.”_

“All right, I trust you.” said Thorin solemnly.

“I…” Bilbo was deeply touched by the show of trust from the suspicious dwarf. He took Thorin’s hand into his own and said, “Thank you.”

They walked hand to hand to breakfast.

After breakfast Thorin went to the forge with Elrond and Bilbo snuck away to find Gilraen and Estel. Bilbo ended up spending the entire day with them, trading stories with Gilraen and playing with the boy. 

Bilbo and Thorin stayed in Rivendell for another night before saying farewell to Elrond and Gandalf.

“It is here I must leave you,” said Gandalf, “there is a long road yet but it is the last road.”

Once again, they took the road. This was much as it had been before, except that the company was smaller, and more silent. Also this time there were _no trolls._ At each point on the road Bilbo recalled the happenings and the words of nearly a year ago. Not far from the road they found the gold of the trolls, which they had buried, still hidden and untouched.

“I have enough to last me my time,” said Bilbo, “I have no need for this.”

“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” said Thorin, “We shall leave it here.”

So they left the troll horde, hidden and untouched, and carried on. After that the journey went well and the days went quickly by. They rode at leisure and often lingered in the fair woodlands where the new leaves were coming in, heralding for the arrival of spring.

They were about twenty miles outside Bree, just past the Barrow-Downs when Bilbo stopped their ponies. Thorin watched curiously as Bilbo cocked his head to hear something on the trees. Bilbo then gave two sharp whistles at one particular tree, high and clear. Suddenly, a hobbit with a blue feather on his cap dropped down from above.

“Mister Baggins! You’re back!” said the hobbit.

“Saradas Brandybuck! I wasn’t expecting _you!_ ” said Bilbo in surprise, “What did you do to get saddled with the outer post?”

“I might have _accidentally_ eaten a piece of the cake that was prepared for the Spring-fest,” Saradas answered defensively.

Bilbo snorted a laugh, “I’m sure it was an accident,” he said.

“Nevermind that Mister Baggins!” said Saradas easily, “Are you back for good then? Going to stay in Brandy Hall tonight?”

“Yes, yes, back for good,” said Bilbo genially, “And we’d like to stay in Brandy Hall tonight if your father won’t mind.”

“You know he likes you, and he’d be happy to have your guest…” at this point Saradas took a good look at Thorin. His eyes became wide and he said excitedly, “A dwarf!”

Bilbo tsked at the younger hobbit, “Manners Saradas.” he chided.

“Sorry,” mumbled Saradas.

Bilbo could see that the Saradas was still brimming with curiosity, so he relented and said,

“Why don’t you make the calls and we’d see you tonight at Brandy Hall? I’m sure plenty of stories will be told over dinner.”

“Right-o Mister Baggins!” Saradas brightened visibly.

Then Saradas proceeded to make four calls. The first was long and low, like the hooting sound of an owl. The second was a sharp call similar to a cardinal song repeated twice. Then came the two sharp whistles like the one Bilbo did earlier followed by a series of high pitched chitter like a warbler. Bilbo nodded approvingly and in the distance they could hear the calls being repeated.

“Now back to your post Saradas-lad,” said Bilbo.

Quick as a squirrel, Saradas disappeared back to the tree. Bilbo urged his pony to walk again and turned to Thorin who looked rather bewildered.

“Are you all right?” asked Bilbo with slight concern.

“I have _so many questions_.” said Thorin.

“We still have a few hours before we reach Brandy Hall,” said Bilbo with a laugh, “so ask away my dear dwarf!”

So they rode side by side down the Lesser East Road. Bilbo enjoyed the sight of the country where he had been born and bred, where the shapes of the land and of the trees were as well known to him as his hands and toes, and all the way to Brandy Hall Thorin peppered him with questions.

“What were you listening for in the trees?”

“Saradas should’ve spied us from a mile away and made the calls before I announced myself.” Bilbo answered with a slight huff, “Should probably talk to Gorbadoc about the training for his Shirrifs…”

“Why are you so surprised to see him?”

“Gorbadoc the Master of Buckland is his father and the outer post is one of the least desirable duties of the Shirrifs, so it very rarely fall on one of the Master’s children. Unless it was a punishment!”

“And we’re staying at his house tonight?”

“Of course! It would be a grave insult to the Master if I stayed anywhere else in Buckland. Furthermore, his wife is my Aunt Mirabella and she’ll have my hide if I don’t stay with her!”

At this Thorin seemed to have a slight panic about _meeting Bilbo’s family._ Bilbo just laughed at him and told him that he will be fine. However, Bilbo couldn’t resist adding,

“Maybe try being _polite_ this time?” he said with a cheeky grin.

“I’ll be the _politest_ dwarf you’ve ever seen, just you wait.” Thorin grumbled.

They continued to tease each other for a while before the questions came back,

“Why don’t we ride straight to Hobbitton?”

“We _could_ ride to Hobbitton, but we will arrive there late at night and I rather not disturb dear Holman Greenhand so late without warning or to go to Tuckborough to hunt down Fortinbras for my keys. This way by the time we arrive tomorrow, words would’ve spread and _everyone_ would know that I’m back and would be prepared for my return.” explained Bilbo.

“That's rather… clever.” said Thorin.

“Thank you kindly,” Bilbo puffed out with pride. 

They rode along for a few more miles before Bilbo cocked his head again. This time they could hear a series of bird calls from the trees. Bilbo nodded and smiled approvingly.

“What do the calls mean?” ask Thorin.

“Well the first one is always to make yourself known, each post has their own calls. Now earlier Saradas made the call that meant two guests for Brandy Hall after he identified himself, followed by the calls that meant me and a not-hobbit.” explained Bilbo.

“Right.” said Thorin, he nodded his head in understanding. “And the one just now?”

“Oh he was telling the folk that we are close.” answered Bilbo

“How close are we?” asked Thorin

Bilbo smiled and led them past a bough of trees and they saw rows of smials with round doors painted in bright colours. 

“Welcome to Buckland.” said Bilbo to Thorin.

They rode down the main road and Bilbo pointed out Newberry and Crikehollow as they passed them, until at last they arrived at a big smial with a red door. They dismounted their pony and walked up to the door where an older gentlehobbit was waiting for them at the door.

“Good day to you Mister Baggins.” greeted the hobbit.

“Good day to you Gorbadoc, how does the Buckland fare?” Bilbo greeted back.

“We are well Mister Baggins, it was an easy winter.” said Gorbadoc.

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Bilbo sincerely, “How many more times I should ask you to call me Bilbo, Gorbadoc?”

“At least one more, Mister Baggins.” answered Gorbadoc easily.

“Bilbo!” an older hobbit-lady came out of the smial.

“Aunt Mirabella.” Bilbo embraced her and kissed her cheek.

“Look at you! All skin and bones!” said Mirabella.”Where have you been? We were all so worried about you! Running off with a wizard and-”

“Auntie, I am well enough.” Bilbo cut her off, “Now, may I Introduce you to Thorin Oakenshiled, son of Thrain, son of Thror. A dwarf of royal nobility from the line of Durin.”

“Oh my…” Mirabella was taken aback but she quickly recovered herself, “Welcome to Brandy Hall Mr. Oakershield! Come on in! Afternoon tea is ready!”

“Just Thorin is fine, Mrs. Brandybuck,” Thorin smiled charmingly, “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Oh just call me Mirabella,” she hustled Thorin inside.

Bilbo looked at Gorbadoc and raised an eyebrow.

“Well you heard my wife, come on in!” said Gorbadoc.

Bilbo smiled and followed him into the house, it was bustling with young hobbits running around.

“Cousin Bilbo!” Two young hobbits in their tweens came to him.

“Dodinas! Dinodas! What are you lads up to now?” asked Bilbo.

“Mr. Sandyman said you’re dead.” said Dodinas.

“And Mrs. Woodhill said a wizard turned you into a mushroom and _ate_ you!” said Dinodas.

“My, my!” Bilbo laughed, “As you can see I’m alive and still in hobbit shape!”

“Why don’t you boys go and see to Mister Baggins’ ponies?” Gorbadoc shooed the boys outside.

“So the rumours are _that_ bad?” asked Bilbo after the lads went away.

“Quite awful yes,” said Gorbadoc, “It is a good thing that you’re back before your year is up, _some folks_ are quite eager to declare you dead.”

“I can guess who,” Bilbo grumbled.

They entered the dining room, Thorin was already seated on the table with another hobbit while Mirabella was pouring tea.

“Rory.” Bilbo greeted the hobbit as he took a seat beside Thorin, “How’s fatherhood treating you? A lass or a lad?”

“Bilbo, still sharp as ever.” greeted Rorimac whose wife indeed just gave birth this past autumn, “We got a healthy hobbit-lad! We called him Saradoc.”

“Don’t mind him Bilbo,” said a hobbit-lady who just entered the room with a tray of scones, “Rory got a cold shoulder from the Bolgers last week because he forgot that Lily Bolger was pregnant and offered her a glass of wine.”

“Amaranth, you look radiant as always.” Bilbo smiled.

“Amaranth the Beautiful, they call her.” said Mirabella to Thorin, “Still wouldn’t pick a lad to settle down with…”

Amaranth’s smile dropped and her jaw twitched.

“My people found no shame in preferring their crafts to marriage,” said Thorin in an even tone.

“Oh hobbits aren’t like dwarves at all!” said Mirabella, “What use would she have for her excellent tailoring skills if not for serving her own husband and children?”

“Mother…” Amaranth was about to argue.

“So Bilbo, what have you been up to in the past year?” Gorbadoc cut in, steering the conversation away from the old family argument.

“I’m afraid you must wait for that Gorbadoc,” said Bilbo, “I promised Saradas that I’ll tell my story over dinner and supper.”

“He didn’t see you coming and you had to call him down, did he?” sighed Gorbadoc.

“Well…” Bilbo just smiled at him before switching the conversation up again, “Where are Asphodel and Primula? I haven’t seen them.”

“Asphodel is at the Burrows’,” said Rory, “She wouldn’t tell us but I think she is sweet on one of the lads…”

They spent the afternoon chatting about the going ons of the Brandybucks, Tooks, and Bagginses and Bilbo used the chance to catch himself up on The Shire gossip mill. It seemed that his popularity had taken a hit. Most of the hobbitfolk couldn’t care less about what he did as long as it didn’t bother their daily lives and were quite happy for him to take on the wrath of a wizard upon himself. However some loud dissenters were indeed _very loud_ , and if there was one thing that hobbits love more than their food, it was scandalous rumours.

The afternoon tea left Bilbo’s stomach full of delicious cakes and his head full of _useful_ information. His mind turned over what might be waiting for him at Hobbiton tomorrow as he and Thorin followed Amaranth down the hallways of Brandy Hall to their rooms.

“Bilbo you get your usual room,” Amaranth pointed at a door, “and Mr. Thorin if you could follow me down the hallway…”

“One room is fine Amaranth.” Bilbo stopped her.

“Oh it’s really no bother preparing two for one night!” said Amaranth.

“One room,” Bilbo took Thorin’s hand into his own, “is fine.”

Amaranth’s eyebrows rose and her eyes widened. Bilbo just looked at her with a challenging set on his shoulder, waiting for a reaction. Amaranth’s astonishment turned into a gentle smile.

“One room it is then.” she gestured for them to go in Bilbo’s room.

“Thank you Mara,” Bilbo called her with her childhood nickname, his shoulder relaxing.

“You know that the folks wouldn’t like it,” her smile turned wistful.

The gossip mill hadn’t been kind to her who chose to remain unmarried at the age of thirty-six.

“I know,” Bilbo returned the smile, “and yet I couldn’t find it in myself to care.”

Thorin smiled at Bilbo and they turned to go inside hand to hand.

“Your mother is always my favourite Aunt, I think she will approve.” said Amaranth before walking away.

Bilbo closed the door behind them and threw himself to the bed with a huff.

“I forgot how _exhausting_ this is,” Bilbo rubbed his temple.

“Catching up with the families?” asked Thorin as he took off his coat and sat on the bed next to Bilbo.

“Yes.” sighed Bilbo, “Gorbadoc said that the Sackville-Bagginses gained some traction to oppose me during my absence, the Bracegirdles are on their side now that Otho married Lobelia. Aunt Mirabella of course thinks that I should find a hobbit to marry and start having children to fight the rumours against my respectability.”

“Where was I when this all happened?” asked Thorin as he thought back on the conversations during tea.

“My dear dwarf,” Bilbo smiled, “you should listen to what is _unsaid_ when dealing with hobbits.”

“Huh.” said Thorin thoughtfully, “What about Rorimac and Amaranth? What do they think?”

“Rory thinks everything will be handy-dandy now that I’m back and the Tooks are in similar minds. Mara is much less naive and rightly expects troubles, but she is on my side.” explained Bilbo.

“Bilbo,” said Thorin gravely, “I’m not so deaf to not notice that being with me will bring you troubles from your folk.”

“Thorin my love, I left Bag End last spring fully expecting trouble when I got back. And this is not as bad as I feared. They haven’t declared me dead and couldn’t do so before another month passed. If they had done so the legal bother could last for years and I could lose my Bagginship.” said Bilbo.

_“Bunnanunê,_ I never fully realized how much you risked for us.” said Thorin affectionately.

“And I would risk it all again in a heartbeat.” said Bilbo, “The troubles will be there whether you’re with me or not, and I rather have you with me. We have to be subtle to begin with but I have no intention of hiding what you are to me.”

“I did make a promise to Dori to take care of you,” Thorin smiled, he bent down to whisper in Bilbo's ear “so how may I be of _service_ Mister Baggins?”

“You are a _horrible tease_ Thorin Oakenshield.” Bilbo giggled, “Though if you really want to help…”

“Anything.”

“Gorbadoc hasn’t decided whether to support me or not so I have to be _really careful_ when I tell our story tonight,” said Bilbo, “But if you’re the one that tells the story…”

“It will be more credible if I’m the one singing you praises?” asked Thorin, catching on to Bilbo’s scheme.

“Yes,” answered Bilbo with a slight blush, “Now, hobbits valued _different things_ than dwarves so we must put emphasis on…”

They continued to discuss their plan until it was dinnertime. It was a good plan, putting a lot less emphasis on the murders and battles while mentioning the riddles and clever schemes a lot more. Thorin had many rapt listeners throughout dinner, and as it was a fairly long story, throughout supper as well. Thorin carefully danced around the topic of their courtship but Bilbo knew that a lot of the hobbits would get the hints.

It was late at night when Bilbo and Thorin made it to bed and Gorbadoc still hadn’t indicated whether he would support Bilbo or not. Bilbo was quite anxious but he buried his face on Thorin’s chest to calm himself down and managed to fall asleep.

The next morning, they were woken up by a knock on the door. Bilbo groaned, rolled over Thorin and out of bed, and opened the door. There he found Primula holding a stack of clothes.

“Good morning Cousin Bilbo.” she greeted, giggling slightly at the sight of Bilbo mussed hair, “Breakfast will be ready soon and Father told me to give these to you.”

“Good morning Primula, we will be there in time for breakfast,” Bilbo took the clothes from Primula, noticing the buttons, “and give Gorbadoc my thanks please.”

Primula nodded and walked away. Bilbo closed the door and placed the clothes on the bedside table.

“You look very pleased,” said Thorin from the bed.

“Gorbadoc will support me after all.” said Bilbo.

“Because he gave you clothes?” asked Thorin.

“My dear dwarf,” said Bilbo, fingers brushing over the gleaming brass buttons, “this is as good as a battle armour.”

Bilbo washed his face and put on the white shirt and brown pants. Then he brushed his hair and the hair on top of his foot until each curl gleamed in the sunlight. He put on the green embroidered waistcoat, deftly buttoned up each brass button. Lastly he put on the coat, it was the same shade of blue as Thorin’s outfit. When Bilbo came down to breakfast, he looked every inch the respectable Baggins of The Shire.

Breakfast was a brief affair, soon Bilbo and Thorin said goodbyes to the Brandybucks, left Buckland and made their way into The Shire. Bilbo had come very far from a hobbit that had never rode on a pony in the beginning of their adventure, now he rode with practiced ease and looked very regal while doing so. All along the way, hobbits came out of their holes to greet Bilbo and to gawk at Thorin. Bilbo stopped and asked after each hobbit while Thorin bore the gawkers with patience.

They were stopping at Frogmorton to have second breakfast with Nyle Boffins, the Thain of Eastfarthing when the first sign of trouble made itself known. Tom the Shirrif came rushing into the tavern with a worried look on his face.

“Mister Baggins!” cried Tom, “There is a commotion at Bag End!”

“Oh dear,” said Nyle, “I had hoped that they wouldn’t make any trouble!”

“Do not worry Mister Nyle,” said Bilbo, “I did not expect anything less from _some folk.”_

“Should we hurry back?” asked Thorin.

“On the opposite my dear,” said Bilbo, “We shouldn’t hurry _at all._ Now Tom, please sit down and tell me about your dear Holman Cotton.”

Tom shifted nervously on his feet but took a seat anyway.

“We got married in the autumn sir,” said Tom, “We are expecting our first babe now, going to name him Tolman if he’s a lad but we can’t agree on a name for a lass…”

They continued to chat and finished their food in no rush, thirty minutes passed before they were on the road again and Bilbo decided that they should walk the rest of the way with Tom. Coming to a rise Bilbo could see his own Hill in the distance, they crossed the bridge and passed the mill by the river and came right back to Bilbo’s own front gate.

There they saw a very red faced Fortinbras Took and Bilbo’s gardener Holman Greenhand standing in front of the door. They were facing Bilbo’s uncle Longo Sackville-Baggins, Longo’s son Otho, and Otho’s new bride Lobelia. These hobbits were yelling at each other on the top of their lungs. The Sackville-Bagginses demanded Bilbo’s keys and Fortinbras and Holman stoutly refused to do so.

Bilbo sent Tom away and opened the gate.

“Good morning gentlehobbits,” Bilbo greeted, interrupting their argument.

All five hobbits stopped yelling and turned to look at him.

“Bilbo!” said Fortinbras with delight.

“Mister Baggins!” said Holman with relief.

“Who are you?” asked Lobelia suspiciously.

“You know perfectly well who I am,” said Bilbo as he entered the gate, “I have always pegged you as a smart lass Miss Bracegirdle, but maybe I was wrong.”

_“Mrs._ Sackville-Baggins,” Lobelia gritted out between her teeth.

“Oh? Congratulations on the nuptials! Welcome to the family!” said Bilbo brightly, “Now it would be _extremely embarrassing_ for such a new addition to not recognize a family member, wouldn’t it?”

Bilbo turned away from flushed and stammering Lobelia and faced the others.

“Good morning Uncle, can I help you?” he asked Longo.

“Bilbo Baggins had been gone for a long time, as his closest family member I declare him dead and this hobbit is an impostor!” said Longo pompously.

“Dear Holman, may I inquire about today's date?” asked Bilbo to his gardener pleasantly.

“I-it’s the 21st of March sir,” answered Holman.

“I need to be gone for at least twelve months before you can declare me dead, Uncle. Eleven months and six days are _not_ twelve months no matter how much you wish it to be,” said Bilbo sharply, “You wouldn’t wish for you _dear nephew’s_ untimely death would you?

Bilbo’s words brought out gasps from the onlookers that had gathered around Bag End because of the commotion. Longo’s face became very red with mortification.

“If you really are in fact Bilbo Baggins and un-deceased, can you prove it?” Otho challenged.

“Of course.” Bilbo smiled and took out a roll of paper from his coat pocket, “A contract of employment signed by my own hand.”

Longo snatched the paper from Bilbo and unrolled it, his face became pinched when he spotted Bilbo’s signature at the end of the contract.

“It certainly seems to be in order,” said Fortinbras who was reading over Longo’s shoulder.

“Who is this person you pledged your service to? Thorin Oakenshield?” asked Longo, still refused to back down.

“Why none other than Thorin Oakenshiled, son of Thrain, son of Thror. A dwarf of royal nobility from the line of Durin.” Bilbo gestured towards Thorin genially, “He is right there if you need him to vouch for me.”

Thorin nodded at the crowd, walked up to the doorstep and smiled charmingly at the hobbits gathered there.

_“A dwarf?_ You would have a dwarf to vouch for you?” Longo was losing his temper.

“A dwarf of _royal nobility,_ yes. And one of the most honorable folk I know.” Bilbo smiled, “Now uncle, we wouldn’t want to be discourteous to a _royal guest!”_

_“Discourteous!?”_ Longo bellowed.

“I wouldn’t yell if I were you, Uncle,” Bilbo straightened his jackets, his fingers trailed over the brass buttons, “One shouldn’t _disturb the peace_ on such a fine spring morning after all!”

As if it was on cue, Tom the Shirrif came back with three other Shirrifs, ready to break the commotion if it escalated further. Otho tugged at Longo’s sleeve to notify him of the arrival of the Shirrifs. Longo looked at them and turned back to glare at Bilbo with contempt.

“Otho! Lobelia! We are leaving,” he grunted, “We have more important things to do!”

And so the Sackville-Bagginses left Bag End in a huff, the rest of them watched their receding backs.

“It is always a pleasure seeing you at work Bilbo,” Fortinbras laughed, “Welcome back!”

“It is good to be back.” said Bilbo, “May I introduce you to Thorin Oakenshield, he will be staying at Bag End. Thorin this is Fortinbras Took the second, Thain of Westfarthing and Holman Greenhand, best gardener in The Shire.”

Thorin shook the hobbits’ hand and they exchanged pleasantries. The crowd started to disperse now that the commotion is over.

“I have restocked your pantry, Mister Baggins. And my Daisy changed the sheets.” said Holman.

“Thank you Holman, you are as efficient as ever.” Bilbo smiled, “Now if you gentlehobbits will excuse us, we just came back from a long journey and would like to settle in”

“Right Mister Baggins, Mister Thorin. I shall see you around!” Holman left them.

“It is good to see that someone took care of you while you’re out there,” Fortinbras clapped Bilbo’s shoulder, “Come by for tea sometime soon!”

With that Fortinbras left them as well. Bilbo and Thorin tied their ponies to the fence and unloaded them. They brought their luggage into Bag End and closed the door behind them. Bilbo looked around and pleased to see that his house was just as he had left it. He turned to Thorin and said,

“Welcome home.”

Thorin smiled and bent down to kiss him.

Soon Bilbo will have to oversee the Spring-fest and the Shire-moot. Soon Thorin will have to go to Ered Luin to bring them the news from Erebor. But that would all come later. He was now home, and he had his dwarf with him, and he was _happy_. 

So Bilbo grasped Thorin’s collar and deepened their kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to the LoTR Appendix C, Gorbadoc and Mirabella Brandybuck have seven children:  
> Rorimac (38) - Merry's grandfather, Amaranth (36), Asphodel (27), Dodinas & Dinodas (age unknown), and Primula (20) - Frodo's mother.
> 
> THIS IT IT GUYS. THE END! This story had been in my mind for the last 6 -7 years and I'm so happy to finally FINALLY finished it. I might go back to do some minor editing but THIS IS IT.
> 
> I'm not done with this AU though. There will be some short stories and one shots that still rattling in my brain such as: Thorin going to Blue Mountain to see Dis, Thorin's & Bilbo's wedding, Thorin & Bilbo adopting Frodo, etc. But for now I'm going to take a break first :D
> 
> Please let me know if you want to see anything else in this AU! I'm on Tumblr with the same username if you want to stop by and chat. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!


End file.
